The Next Unknown
by simplesnowflake
Summary: Some things never change, but after Ahtohallan, quite a lot did. Now Anna and Elsa somehow need to find their own paths without losing sight of each other. Except the world won't wait, and when more trouble washes up on Arendelle's shores, the sisters learn that sometimes you can't do the next right thing without the courage to confront what last went wrong. A post-Frozen 2 story.
1. With the Dawn, What Comes Then

_I don't own Frozen or any of its characters. The cover art is a commission drawn by the super talented princessmimoza on tumblr—please check out her amazing art!_

_To everyone whose lives were also changed by the snow queen and her cinnamon roll of a sister; this one's for you. Don't ever forget that you are the one you've been waiting for :)_

* * *

**The Next Unknown**

_1 _– _With the Dawn, What Comes Then_

OoOoO

"Your Highness."

This was ridiculous. He could read the wind with a lick of his finger. He could sniff out a waterhole with his eyes closed. He'd survived blizzards with nothing but his instincts and the frozen rope tethering him to Sven. He could definitely _do this_.

"Your Highness? Sir?"

Except his foe was not a blizzard. Just another long hallway with the same white doors and the same crocus-patterned wallpaper that haunted the same dreams about running down the _same damn hallway_, horribly aware that he was late for some important thing, except he couldn't find the right bloody door—

"His Royal Highness Kristoff Bjorgman of Arendelle?"

Kristoff's spine snapped straight as he whipped around. "Y-Yes?"

A white-haired man stood behind him, hands clasped before him atop an obsidian cane. His expression was politely neutral. "Are you lost, sir?"

"Me? No, um, just—" Kristoff winced as his voice cracked. "Just walking. Around. I'm taking a walk around the castle. What do you need?"

As soon as the words were out, Kristoff wished he could stuff them back in the way Anna shovelled pastries into her mouth. The last time he'd accidentally asked '_What do you need?'_ Gerda had smiled bemusedly and replied, "I need to know what _you_ need, Your Highness."

What he _wanted_ was for Gerda and the other staff to go back to calling him 'Kristoff'. But right now, he needed directions. And to stop making a buffoon of himself in front of this man who, with the multitude of service medals gleaming on his crisp jacket, was clearly not a kindly servant. The man looked old enough to be Kristoff's human grandfather, and though he stood half a head shorter, his strong, ramrod posture made Kristoff feel like he was the one looking up.

"My apologies for disturbing you. I wondered if you might know where I could find the princess. I hear she has returned."

Thank God. A question he could actually answer. "No, I'm pretty sure she's still down at the school celebrating the opening of the new wing. I can pass on a message for you if you like, Mister… Minister…?"

The man gave him a long look. _Crap_. Was taking messages supposed to be below him, too? Or was he offended that Kristoff couldn't remember his name? It wasn't personal; since the wedding, he'd had at least five hundred names and faces thrown at him. Even Anna couldn't keep them all straight—and she was actually a people person.

Finally, the man offered a thin smile. "Councillor Iver Belland." _Councillor. Darn it._ "I am aware Her Majesty is still occupied in the village."

Now it was Kristoff's turn to stare. Then it sank in like a stone, and he wished _he_ could sink through the ground, too.

"Right. You meant Elsa. I'm sorry, I just… never mind. I, uh, haven't seen her around. Today, I mean. We are having games night after dinner, though, so I'm sure she'll turn up…" He trailed off, hoping the man would take it as a cue to speak. No dice. For all he knew, there was probably a punishment for interrupting royalty. If that was the case, then Kristoff might as well be on death row for all the times he'd cut through Anna's rambling.

"So yeah," he finished lamely. "Sorry I can't help. But I could still pass on a message."

Councillor Belland smiled again. Trying to read than this man was harder than playing hide-and-seek with trolls. "No matter; my business is not urgent. Thank you for your time, Your Highness. Please enjoy the rest of your walk."

With a bow (that Kristoff very nearly returned out of habit), Belland strode past with a fluidity that belied his age—did he even need that cane?—swept around the corner, and was gone.

Kristoff exhaled. But new footsteps and sounds of chatter had already caught up with him.

Now, he _knew_ that it was probably just a pair of maids doing their rounds, and he _knew_ that they wouldn't tease him after three years of watching him stumble through the castle grounds like a blind man… but the instincts that had seen him through every storm so far were now yelling for him to get out of there.

So Kristoff jumped for the nearest door and slipped inside, silently shutting it behind him. He heard the maids pass, laughing.

"Kristoff? What are you doing?"

A mortifying shriek flew from his lips. His frantic gaze landed on his equally startled company, and he let out a groan of relief. "Elsa! Oh, thank God it's just you."

The room he had barged into was unusually bright, dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall, ushering in sunlight that glowed on the ivory walls. It was minimally furnished by castle standards, populated with armchairs placed around a low, mahogany table. A gold and purple settee had been positioned against the windows—that was where Elsa sat with her feet tucked cosily beneath her, a book in her hands and a quizzically raised eyebrow on her face. Directed at him.

"'Just me'?" she repeated with a quirk of her lips, looking past him. "Where are the wolves?"

The irony was that there had once been a time Kristoff would have preferred being chased by a literal pack of wolves to finding himself alone in a room with Anna's older sister. But she'd had three years to freeze his limbs off, which meant Kristoff had had three years to learn that Elsa wasn't actually, well, _icy_. Instead, she was a subtle wave of magic flattening the cowlick in his hair right before Anna dragged him in front of a hundred expectant faces, and a meaningful clearing of the throat when another dignitary mistook Kristoff for a stablehand. She was a teary smile, giving him her blessing to marry the person at the centre of both their worlds.

"No wolves. Just happy you're back. I thought we'd only be seeing you around dinnertime." _Smooth, Kristoff. She kind of lives here, too_. "_Not_ that I'm saying you're not welcome at any time. Anna would kick herself for missing out if she knew you were here already."

Elsa marked her page and closed her book. "That is exactly why she doesn't know yet. It would only distract her."

"Good call." The door handle was digging painfully into his back. "Speaking of distractions, someone was looking for you just then. One of the councillors?"

Was that a grimace as Elsa tucked a piece of hair behind one ear? "I'm already aware. Thank you, though."

Wait. If he had bolted into the nearest room, and Elsa had been in here the entire time… Kristoff blanched. "Did you hear everything?"

"No?" Elsa's brow furrowed in that self-conscious, ready-to-apologise manner of someone accustomed to knowing the answers. "Should I have?"

"Um… no. It's good that you didn't. I was just lost. Again. Always been better with open spaces. Just need another three years to get used to the place. Hah..."

Elsa and Anna had the same eyes, but their gazes couldn't be more different. When Anna looked at Kristoff, he felt seen; when Elsa looked at him, he felt seen _through_. And the way she regarded him now, head slightly tilted, reminded him that he wasn't simply in the company of Anna's older sister, or even _his_ sister-in-law. Because, beneath the relaxed smile, Elsa still bore all the quiet shrewdness and effortless poise of a queen.

That was how Kristoff knew he was far from alone when it came to fumbling Elsa's new—old?—title, the same way he was conscious of the fact that no councillor had ever specifically sought Princess Anna the way they now prowled after Princess Elsa. Regardless of her abdication and humility, the Snow Queen wasn't someone you could '_Your Highness'_ away.

But then she was gone, and it was just Elsa's amused but kind voice that said, "It is quite easy to get turned around inside the castle. Anna and I are still finding forgotten secret passages, and we grew up within these walls."

"Right? I try to get my bearings by memorising the paintings on the walls; I've just never been in this part of the castle without Anna. I don't know how Olaf does it… what?"

Elsa wore a sheepish look. "Actually, the staff rotate the artwork around the castle every change of season."

"Oh. _Oh_. Well. That explains a lot."

His stomach released a feral growl of protest, washing away the last dregs of his dignity.

Sighing, Kristoff looked up to find Elsa fighting back a grin. "Can you please give me very, _very_ explicit directions to the kitchen?"

"No."

"Thanks—wait, did you say _no_?"

"Yes." With that rare smile of mischief, Elsa looked so much like Anna. She held out a plate of sandwiches. Kristoff hadn't noticed upon entering, but there was also a tray of tea and biscuits on the table in front of her. "I can give you more than directions, if you would care to join me."

His stomach grumbled a second time. "Thanks, but isn't that your lunch?"

"Having Anna as a sister means I'm quite proficient at sharing. I'm sure you empathise."

No kidding. Between Anna and Sven, it was a wonder Kristoff hadn't yet starved to death.

Realising he had been hovering by the door like an antisocial dunce the whole time, Kristoff finally walked into the room and sank into an armchair across from Elsa. Only when he had taken a bite of sandwich did she sit back with a cup of tea, which she sipped while Kristoff shamelessly devoured the plate. He hadn't noticed how ravenous he was.

"You could have asked the staff to bring you something from the kitchens instead of going down there yourself. Gerda would be appalled if she found out you were wandering the halls hungry."

Kristoff remembered at the last moment to swallow before opening his mouth. "I know. I figured I'd get some extra carrots for Sven while I was at it."

"The staff could also arrange that."

"I know," Kristoff said again, because '_I'm not used to having people do stuff for me'_ seemed like an insensitive thing to say to someone who hadn't chosen to be raised with their every need attended to. It wasn't like he had a point to prove. If he were being honest, he'd gotten used to the basic luxuries that had come with being a guest of the royal family—like not having to choose between buying carrots for Sven, or replacing his thrice-patched tunic.

It was the being _part_ of the royal family bit that changed things a little. Maybe more than a little.

Elsa set aside her tea and reached under the settee, coming back up with a bundle of knitting. She cast Kristoff a shy glance. "I hid it when you charged in."

"Sorry. Should've knocked." He gestured. "That looks like your mother's scarf."

The comment seemed to please her. "You think so? Yelana's been teaching me Northuldra craftwork." She raised the work in progress for him to see. It was a mossy turquoise, with the beginnings of an impressively intricate diamond pattern. Then again, Elsa didn't seem capable of making anything _not_ intricate and impressive.

"Surprise present for Anna?"

"If she doesn't discover it first." Elsa worked to untangle a snarl of knots that must have occurred as a result of being hastily tossed about. "I wasn't sure about bringing it with me. You know how Anna tends to… appear without warning." She cast a meaningful look towards the door, as if wary of jinxing herself. "So it was also a good thing for me that it was just you."

Kristoff chuckled. "That explains why you were holding your book upside down earlier."

"Was I really?"

"Yep. Ice harvester's honour. Don't worry; I won't tell Anna."

They lapsed into a companionable silence. Kristoff had seen Anna knit him a scarf in one day ("Thirteen years of me time," she'd said casually. "Wait till you see me play solitaire.") and could tell that it didn't come as easily to Elsa. Her movements were careful rather than automatic, and she seemed fully absorbed in the task.

Kristoff polished off the sandwiches and sat picking bread crumbs off of his palm. Several more moments trickled past.

"Anna is—" he began, at the same time that she asked, "How is Anna?"

They stared at each other. And shared a wry smile.

Kristoff's shoulders loosened. "Well, it's only been three months since her coronation and we just got back from our honeymoon." If a tour through the kingdom counted as a honeymoon. One full month of meeting the people, kissing babies, wining and dining with dukes and barons whose names and well wishes had all blurred into one big migraine by the time they finally returned to Arendelle. "You know Anna. She's hit the ground running—literally running. Taken to leadership like a walrus to ice."

He saw Elsa's hands stop. _Get it together. _

"Which is not to say I'm _surprised_ she's doing such a good job! She did follow you everywhere for three years, and she somehow _knows_ everyone. It's a bit scary to watch, actually… I don't mean I'm scared of _Anna_. Well, sometimes I am. But most of the time I'm not."

Elsa's laugh startled him. "I'm sorry… 'like a walrus to ice'?"

Kristoff flushed. "It's an ice harvester thing."

"Anna and ice. They always seem to find a way into our conversations, don't they?"

"What can I say? It's all I know. And, well, they're both beautiful. When Anna walked down the aisle towards me in that dress you made for her? I kid you not, I nearly fainted. I-In a good way!" _Good job. You basically admitted to undressing her baby sister with your eyes in front of the entire kingdom._

"Kristoff?"

Lord help him. "Yeah? I mean—yes?"

"You're very welcome." The amused edge to Elsa's reply seemed to imply: _You'd _better _have been looking at her._

Kristoff blinked back. Then he laughed. Elsa joined in.

The door exploded open.

"Elsa, you're here! Oh, and Kristoff! Are you guys having a party without me? How could you—whoa!"

Already hopping on one foot to take off her shoes, Anna was defenceless when Kristoff hastily vaulted over the armchair and swept her off her feet. Her surprise melted into a goofy grin as he spun her around. "Hey, you. Are you trying to get between me and my sister?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Your Majesty. I've seen what happens to folks who try."

A discreet glance revealed that Elsa had hidden her knitting in time. Anna was still smiling down at him, her hands on his shoulders. Several wisps of strawberry blonde hair had escaped from her bun, some caught on the corner of her mouth. There were flowers in her hair and Kristoff could easily picture her sitting on the grass while schoolchildren clambered all over her. She smelled like sunshine.

It was little wonder he couldn't find his way anywhere. Everything led him back to her.

OoOoO

Elsa didn't need to knock because the doors were already wide open.

Technically, there was no physical room for the doors to close at all. Books and papers littered the study floor in precarious stacks, tracing a haphazard maze towards the unexpectedly tidy desk. Barring, of course, the Queen of Arendelle sprawled across it on her back, reading a missive held above her head. Her bare feet tapped out a gentle rhythm against the side of the desk; the same eight notes that had stubbornly rained down on Elsa's door for thirteen years.

Elsa stood at the doorway for a moment, soaking in the sight of her sister being both Anna and the queen at the same time. And something unclenched inside her, just a little, while something else tightened in its place. If only Father and Mother could see Anna now.

"It must take all of Kai's self-control not to come in and tidy this," she announced.

Anna's head turned, the joy in her eyes illuminated by candlelight. "Oh, he tries. But then I tell him, 'If I can't find last year's shipment records where I left them next to the window with my pet rock on top, you can explain to Elsa why we can't import the nice chocolate from Switzerland.' Works like a charm. Am I late for charades?"

"Not yet. Olaf is still going around asking the staff for more words. Also, please stop terrorising the kingdom in my name."

Anna scoffed and raised a finger to make a point. Then stopped to sniff the air. She shot upright. "Is that hot cocoa?!"

Elsa held the mug out of reach. "It looks to me like our chocolate imports are faring quite well indeed."

"Looks to me like _I'm_ the one being terrorised." Anna's _give me_ motions intensified.

Elsa gestured for the missive that had fallen into her sister's lap. "I'll trade you."

"Be my guest; it concerns you more than me, anyway." Anna proceeded to pour the beverage down her throat. "Ack! Hot hot hot!"

Sighing, Elsa reached over and wrapped a hand around the mug to cool it. Then she leaned back against the desk beside Anna's crossed legs and skimmed through the letter. She grimaced.

Anna nudged her, mirth swimming in her voice. "Well? Should I write back to Lord Nilsen and tell him it would be my honour to have his son as my brother-in-law?"

"You should not. Lord Nilsen's son could easily have been _my_ brother-in-law. I received his proposals for your hand year after year."

"Too bad, already spoken for. You, on the other hand, are not. Are you sure you don't want to give what's-his-name a chance? I hear he's quite a looker!"

"He is." Elsa refolded the parchment along its creases. "We met him two years ago, do you remember? He attended Buferdsdagen with his father."

"Really?"

"You played hide-and-seek with him."

"… I what?"

Elsa handed the letter back to her sister, trying not to laugh. "If I remember correctly, Tobias Nilsen just turned twelve years old."

Anna blinked. Then she dissolved into snorts and giggles. "_Twelve_! That's worse than the old baron who wanted to make me his third wife!"

"Fifth wife." Elsa rescued the hot cocoa.

"_Twelve_!" Anna screeched again, collapsing over Elsa. "Everyone wants their own Snow Queen. Well, they can't have her. She's all mine." Her tone descended into mischief. "Unless she's _interested _in someone?"

"I assure you, she most definitely is not."

"What about Ryder?" Anna took one look at her expression and moved on. "Yeah, can't see that happening either. Honeymaren? Because you know I'd be totally cool with that—not that you need my approval to be interested in anyone… well. Maybe. Actually, yes. Let me at 'em."

"_Anna_." Smiling, Elsa tugged on a pigtail. "I'm not interested in anyone, or in anything more than what I already have. I _am _spoken for; I have a sister I love more than anything, even if she is at times unbearably nosy."

"Nonsense. You love my nose." Anna rested her cheek atop Elsa's head. "But you'll tell me if that changes?"

"My sentiments on your nose?"

"You know what I mean!"

_Don't I tell you everything?_ It was there on the tip of her tongue. It was so easy to say.

Until another voice stole over hers. _But you didn't. You haven't._

_I won't. I can't_.

_Tell her you're making her a scarf. Tell her why. Tell her that you _know_._

Hiding her clenched fists in the folds of her dress, Elsa heard herself say, "Who else would I tell, silly?"

Perhaps if Anna hadn't yawned at that moment, she would have noticed something. But she only rubbed her eyes and said, "I don't know, sis—the way you've been smelling like reindeer, it's only a matter of time before you start talking to them like Kristoff."

"You're incurable." Elsa's voice softened. "Tired?"

"Nope. Maybe. Kinda. But I'll not be called a workaholic by you, of all people. See, _I_ know how to delegate. This is all I have left for today!" Anna made a grand sweeping gesture at the modest stack of missives on her desk. "Which reminds me: I need your advice on a few things… well, all right, an entire mountain's worth of things. But we can go over it later. How long are you staying this time?"

It was the effortlessly light-hearted tone that gave her away. On any other person, it could have been a question about the weather. Anna, though, was neutral about exactly nothing, especially when it came to Elsa. And Elsa had to bite back the urge to say '_As long as you need me to' _because Anna, of all people, had managed not to ask '_Can you stay?'_

They were both dreadful liars. But Anna was getting very good at being queen.

Elsa set aside Lord Nilsen's letter and straightened, steadying Anna before she could tumble off. Then she turned around and raised a hand to her sister's face, gently brushing away a curl.

Anna's curious stare melted into a contented smile as she pressed her cheek into Elsa's hand. "What's up?"

_There you are._

Elsa shook her head. "I will be around long enough that we can postpone games night until tomorrow."

"What about the tomorrow after that? And tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow?"

"Yes, Anna."

Now her sister's expression was radiant. "And Olaf's birthday?"

"I'm always there for Olaf's birthday."

"But you'll be around _until_ then?"

Elsa cupped Anna's face in both her hands and leaned in so their foreheads touched. "Yes. I'll be here."

"Okay," her little sister whispered.

Elsa wished she could freeze this moment and carry it around in a bottle.

Then Anna jerked up, and her nose cracked against Elsa's brow. "Wait—why are we postponing games night?"

OoOoO

"… and then she told me to grab you and go on a date because apparently we both looked like we needed one, and she kicked me out of the study. _My_ study."

"I still don't get it."

"Really? Which part?"

"The part where we had to climb the castle wall. And sprint across the bridge while Olaf distracted the guards."

"What? That was the only part that made sense! How else were we supposed to sneak out without Mattias siccing a whole battalion on us?"

"On _you_," Kristoff corrected. "He's only posted guards on all the exits because _you_ keep giving him the slip. Poor man's just trying to do his job."

"I know, I know. Hang on, let me put my shoes back on." Taking Kristoff's hand, Anna hopped back into her flats. Boy was she glad she'd thought to change into trousers beforehand. "It's just hard to walk around town flanked by soldiers. It intimidates the folk, and it's not like I'm going to get attacked in my kingdom. Elsa didn't have a personal guard."

"Elsa can kind of shoot ice from her hands. You kind of have a tendency to run into fire and other dangers in various stages of collapsing on you. While pissing off creatures ten times your size."

"Exactly! Sneaking out of my own castle is child's play in comparison. Besides…" Anna rose on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I have a valiant pungent reindeer king to protect me."

Kristoff rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smirk on his chapped lips, and moonlight dancing over his blonde curls. It occurred to Anna that Elsa was right; they really were long overdue for a date.

"Prince consort, remember? Not a king."

"Look at you go, Mister I-Hate-Formalities." Anna counted the planks beneath them, gaining a spring to her step as she avoided the cracks. "You know what? Let's play Truth or Dare instead of charades tomorrow."

"Why?"

She shot him a sideways smile. "So I can dare you to tell me what's been bugging you. Or get you to just tell me the truth."

Kristoff blinked at her and then shook his head with a rueful grin. "It'd be a waste of a turn. Nothing is bugging me."

"Nice try. Normal Kristoff would have said—" Anna deepened her voice and puffed out her chest. "'_Nothing is bugging me except _you_, Feisty Pants!_'"

"Please. I sound nothing like that. Ow! What was that for?"

Anna withdrew her karate chop from his side, her nose tipped upwards. "You missed your cue to say '_I would never say that about you, darling! I worship every word that leaves your beautiful lips!'"_

"Honey," Kristoff drawled with a smile in his voice—at least she'd gotten him to smile. "That's something only Sven would say."

Anna could think of someone else who would say that; someone who had once looked at her with nothing but sincerity in his dreamy green eyes. Someone she'd met on this very dock, come to think of it. The first time she'd been out of the gates—the first time she'd felt _seen_. But, like the idiot he'd pegged her for, she had failed to see _him_, and she hadn't listened to Elsa's '_You can't marry a man you just met'_. She hadn't seen who he really was until '_Oh, Anna'_ and it had almost been a good thing that he'd extinguished the fireplace, because the cold had numbed her too deeply to cry. He had stolen her heart and nearly her sister and kingdom, but at least she'd never given him the satisfaction of her tears.

Even Anna could tell her voice was a little too bright. "I had a great time at the school today! We made cookies. I just maybe ate them before I could bring some back for you. Your fault for not being there. The children missed you and Sven."

"About that." Kristoff tugged at his ear with the hand not holding hers. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it. Getting my portrait done took forever because I couldn't make my face do what the painter wanted, and then I got lost in the castle."

"Wait, portrait? What portrait? Don't we already have one of you? After the wedding?"

"I don't know. Didn't think to ask. Maybe the last one didn't turn out well?"

"Trust me, it turned out _very_ well." Perhaps Kai had mentioned something to her and she'd forgotten all about it. Oh God, did that mean _she_ had to sit for another one, too? Mother used to love reminding her that their first family portrait had taken a whole month, on account of Anna bouncing off of every surface. If only photographs could be enlarged to the size of a painting. "You could have just said you had business to attend to and rescheduled the sitting. Jorgan is a sweetheart; he wouldn't have held you prisoner."

Kristoff gave her a dry look. "Oh yeah? And why didn't _you_ simply order the guards into secrecy so we could walk into town like civilised beings?"

Anna opened her mouth, came up empty, and shut it again. "Okay, fine; we both need to get better at saying 'no' to people. We'll ask Elsa for lessons."

"Elsa is also tragic at saying 'no', especially to you."

"Well, yes. But have you _heard_ her Snow Queen voice? Like that time the ambassador from France wanted the bishop to toss holy water on Olaf? Boy, her magic was not the coldest thing that day."

"Hah. You weren't there that time the head chef of some fancy restaurant complained that the ice I'd delivered smelled like horse manure."

Anna's head snapped around. "_Who_ said _what_ to you?"

"Not important. Elsa totally handled it." Kristoff released her hand to clasp his together, and narrowed his eyes in such a shockingly accurate impression of an unimpressed Elsa that Anna couldn't help giggling. "First of all," he said in a clipped and dangerous tone. "Sven is a _reindeer_."

"She said that? Oh my God. I can't breathe."

"Oh, there's more where that came from." Kristoff grinned as Anna, wheezing, clutched him for balance. You remember that fancy ball in the Great Hall last year?"

"Which one?"

"The one where some prince from I-Forget-Where cut into our dance and spent the rest of the night stepping on your toes."

"Oh my gosh, _yes_. Don't remind me."

"You remember how he slipped and fell into the kransekake?"

"You bet! I was so surprised it wasn't _me_ who… hold on. Are you saying _Elsa_ did that?"

Kristoff nodded smugly. "She made sure I was close enough to catch you first. Made me look real smooth, didn't it?"

"You… what? I can't believe you guys. How did you two get into so much mischief without me? I _am_ the mischief!"

"Honestly, I have no idea. Elsa somehow always showed up when I was in a tight spot." Kristoff's voice grew pensive. "I guess I didn't realise until recently how much she looked out for me."

Anna knew that feeling.

She bit her lip and looked up at Kristoff. "You'll tell me if anyone is giving you a hard time, won't you?"

His lips quirked. "And what would you do about it, Queen Feisty Pants?"

"Whack 'em with a lute."

"No flaming bedrolls? I'm shocked."

"Proof of my maturity," Anna flicked a pigtail over her shoulder, making Kristoff laugh. "I'm serious, though. Promise you'll tell me if you need a break from anything. You're probably still shell-shocked after the honeymoon tour—it drove _me_ bonkers. And I know you have these thoughts about not being good enough, which is absolutely _not true_. But if it makes you uncomfortable, you don't actually have to sit with me in court every day because only, like, a tenth of council meetings are actually productive. Oh God, how are we only having this conversation now? And _why are you smiling like that?_"

"Because," he chuckled, "you're acting like I'm going to realise this isn't what I signed up for and run off screaming."

"To be fair, we didn't know that Elsa was going to abdicate when you got down on one knee."

"I also didn't know you were a princess when you chucked a bag of carrots at my head three years ago."

"Hey, I said I was sorry!"

"Look," Kristoff said lightly. "I'm an ice harvester, okay? I was raised by trolls and my best friend is a reindeer."

"And I can fit eighteen marshmallows in my mouth. Your point?"

"I'm just saying I'm not good with people, let alone rich people. Even after you bought me a new sled and Elsa gave me a fancy title, I couldn't figure out how to play that power game. It's easy for them to make jabs at me for wearing my fluffy neck thing wrong because I _do_. And they're so pompous and subtle about it, half the time I don't realise I shouldn't be smiling and nodding back until you or Elsa start throwing death stares. So yeah, it gets me down now and then. People don't usually sign up for things that make them miserable, Anna."

Her chest tightened. "Is that what you are, Kristoff?" she whispered. "Miserable?"

"What? No!"

"You just said—"

"Don't you get it? Was life simpler when all I had to worry about was me and Sven? Heck yes. But was it better? No." Kristoff gripped her shoulders and bent so they were level. Holding her gaze, he said, "I didn't sign up for royalty, Anna. I signed up for _you_."

She wanted so badly.

She wanted to say '_Aww!_' and rib him for his cheesiness. She wanted to throw her arms around him and fight anyone who dared to suggest that she'd let Arendelle down by marrying for love. She wanted to escape into the mountains with him and build a cosy little cabin next to a lake, surrounded by singing birds.

But she also wanted to do _more_ for her home, her people, so at the very least she wanted to protect Kristoff the way she could reject outrageous proposals for Elsa's hand. A queen should be able to do that much.

Kristoff was only in the firing line _because_ she was the queen. And he still wanted to be the one standing next to her.

She absolutely, definitely, did not want to cry. They were in public. She was the queen. He was a sweet-as-nectar dork.

She burst into tears.

"Whoa! _Anna_? I-I didn't say I wouldn't try to learn the game! Once I remember who's in the council and figure out what I can actually do, I can help you. Who else is going to keep you from installing a chocolate fountain in the square, right? So you don't need to worry about me getting bullied, okay? I just have to prove myself to them. Anna?"

She bawled even harder.

"Oh God. What else? Um… oh! Olaf and I have been reading up on, you know, useful stuff! Like which knives and forks to use at dinner! And I've started carrying a handkerchief! Wait. _I'm carrying a handkerchief._"

All Anna could make out was the blurry outline of her husband spinning around and slapping all his pockets. God, he was hopeless. He was hopelessly hers.

She barrelled into him from behind and buried her face in his back. "You're a dork," she mumbled. "And I love you."

She felt him sag in relief. "Well, that's reassuring."

Anna squeezed him tighter and closed her eyes. _Home_, she thought to herself. It was Kristoff and Elsa, and Olaf and Sven. It was Kai and Gerda and Joan. But sometimes she forgot that it was also a night out on the streets she loved so. It was creaky ships and the salty breeze blowing through the fjord. It was the sound of gentle waves lapping against the dock.

Anna's eyes flickered open. "Kristoff? Do you hear that?"

His look of confusion and scepticism told her that he didn't.

She released him and stepped towards the fjord, head cocked. "I definitely heard something. There's this… voice."

Kristoff's eyebrows bunched together. "I hear nothing. Must be a sister thing. A fifth spirit tingle."

"What? That's not a thing." She walked to the edge of the boardwalk and peered into the dark water. "I swear I—"

It sliced through the air then, weak and faraway. Yet so shrill and raw that Anna nearly fell into the fjord. Kristoff's hand seized hers, and when their wide eyes met, she knew that he'd heard it, too.

_Screaming._

OoOoO

There was no point pretending that she didn't miss some parts of it.

The stubbornly uncomfortable chair. Their father's portrait on the wall. The royal seal in the top drawer. The endless list of tasks and matters to follow, one by one, day by day. The monotony. The surety.

Anna seemed to have misplaced her old letter opener, so Elsa fashioned one from ice and savoured the satisfying _schlik_ it made as it sliced open the first envelope. She unfolded the parchment and scanned it with a practiced eye—wax seal, signature, first line of each paragraph. Seconds later, she placed it on the larger of the two piles before her.

Then she deliberated. A herd of escaped cattle was terrible for the farmers and would inflate market prices until they could recoup the losses. Yet Elsa's instincts told her Anna would be delighted the animals had been given a second lease on life. She transferred the missive to the good news pile and reached for another.

She missed the reading. The Northuldra were an oral people and Elsa didn't think it respectful to attach a wagonload of books on the Nokk. She didn't have the time to read in the Forest, anyway. But each time she coaxed another folktale from Yelana, or followed the spirits to yet another unknown, Elsa's fingers would itch for pen and paper to write it down. And when her mind wandered sleeplessly beneath a too-silent canopy, it didn't help that her only reading material was her trove of Anna's notes.

She missed the sound of Anna's carefree laughter wafting through the open window, and the racing footfalls that announced her sister long before the doors slammed open.

_Schlik._ Good news. _Schlik_. Bad news.

"Hi, Elsa!"

She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Olaf. Come join me."

He was already skipping inside. Elsa began to tell him to be careful, but Olaf swiftly navigated the labyrinth of paperwork with ease. At least Anna seemed to have a regular visitor. "Guess what? I helped Anna and Kristoff sneak into the village! They're having a _date_. Are we having a date right now?"

"We can call it that if you like." She set the letter opener down and gave Olaf her full attention. "How have you been?"

He let out a weighty sigh. "I'm _older_."

"That's… very relatable, Olaf."

Then he perked up. "But at least summer's just around the corner! Which means it's my birthday soon!"

It also meant four years since her coronation. Since losing her glove and fleeing to the North Mountain towards what she'd thought was freedom. Since building a snowman without her sister's help for the first time in ever. Four years since Anna—

"I _love_ birthdays!" Olaf beamed.

Elsa smiled back faintly and wondered if Olaf could sense her magic throbbing at her fingertips. "We know you do, little guy. See? Getting older isn't so bad. You learned how to read." She lifted him onto the desk. "Would you like to help me sort Anna's mail? She'll read it properly later, but it will be much easier for her if we first organise everything by urgency. That way, she can prioritise her time. She loses focus easily, so to keep her interested we're going to divide it—"

"Into good news and bad news!" Olaf clapped in delight. "How exciting! That's exactly how Anna used to sort your mail. She said the rule was to take one from each pile so you weren't stressed by consecutive bad news. Oh, my—that's the first time I've said 'consecutive' out loud. _Con-se-cu-tive_. Such a snazzy long word!"

She didn't miss the sleep deprivation and endless buzzing thoughts about the next pressing matter. She definitely did not miss the constant meetings with strangers from foreign lands, or the way negotiations always seemed to end with dignitaries requesting a show of her powers, as if they'd come expecting a circus act. She did not miss the bottomless pressure on her shoulders, reminding her she was perpetually only one misstep away from messing everything up.

But those precious three years had been the only time in her life that Elsa had wished for absolutely nothing at all to change. And that, she missed infinitely.

_Schlik._ Good news. _Shlik._ _Shlik._ _Shlik._ Bad news.

"Elsa?"

"Yes, Olaf?"

"I don't know what to do with this one. It's kinda weird."

"How about you summarise it for me and I'll decide?"

"Well… I think someone is, um… dead? And it's signed by the king of… hmm. Gosh, this handwriting is appalling. Horrendous. Atrocious?"

Elsa caught a flash of a familiar wax seal. Her blood chilled. "Olaf. May I see that?"

"Most obligingly!"

She didn't skim it. She read the whole thing, every word. Twice. On the sixth read, she could have sworn the serpent on the seal was watching her, the gemstone around which it was coiled gleaming sinisterly.

A snowflake dissolved into the parchment.

The chair scraped loudly as Elsa shot to her feet. She held it together long enough to assure Olaf that everything was fine; she just had to find Anna because he was right. This letter didn't belong in either pile.

This letter was not just a letter.

Out in the hall, Elsa seized her dress and ran.

She nearly collided with General Mattias leaping up the stairs. They stared breathlessly at each other for a moment, then started speaking at the same time.

"Thank goodness you're here. We need to call a council meeting. Have you seen Anna?"

"Your Ma—Highness. We have an emergency."

Suddenly, Elsa became aware that the night's peace had already been shattered. Raised voices, horns blowing, boots stampeding. "What happened? Is Anna safe?"

Mattias must have heard the brittle ice in her voice because he hastened to say, "She's fine—well, she's a little wet. Soaked. But safe. Even though she would have been saf_er_ if she hadn't snuck past the guards for a night of romance."

"That may have been my fault." Elsa continued hurrying down the stairs with the general hot on her heels. "Why is she soaked?"

"It appears she jumped into the fjord."

Elsa spun around incredulously. "To _swim_?" Surely Kristoff wouldn't have indulged her recklessness.

"To save lives."

"... I beg your pardon?"

Mattias's dark eyes were sombre. "There are people in the water, Your Highness. Men, women, children. Swimming. Drowning. Anna mobilised all guards and boats for the rescue effort. Every person we fish out is saying the same thing; that they came from—"

"The Southern Isles," Elsa finished softly. The letter crumpled in her glistening fist.

It was already far, far too late to wish that nothing else would change.

* * *

A/N: Yoohoo! Big Frozen 2 hangover! This story was born out of a hunger for more of our favourite sisters after the movie's ending, which opened so many doors for 'Frozen 3' fanfics. I just happened to tumble through one of them—because if I had my way, the sisterly love and icebros moments would never end.

I would love to know what you think of the story so far and appreciate all feedback, good or bad. As always, thank you so much for reading and I truly hope you'll enjoy this story as much as I plan to.

I have a tumblr (themarshmallowattack dot tumblr dot com) where I reblog Frozen content + upload scrapped scenes and other fic-relevant stuff. I sometimes (attempt to) draw scenes from the fic. There's a pinned masterpost with everything related to The Next Unknown.

* * *

A note on _The Sky Is Awake_: five (six?) years ago I wrote a story reimagining what it would have been like if Elsa had let Anna in after their parents died. That was an AU and this is canon-compliant so the two fics aren't related.

I will be using some minor side characters from TSIA/references though (what can I say… I'm lazy). TSIA knowledge isn't at all necessary to follow this story but I'll mention their links in the notes in case you'd like the extra context. The chapters are practically standalone oneshots, so you can jump straight to a specific one without going through the whole fic. For example, Councillor Belland is from chapter 18 of The Sky Is Awake

If you ever catch any other The Sky Is Awake references, just think of it as an Easter egg 'thank you' for journeying into the unknown with me again :)


	2. Dive Down Deep

**The Next Unknown**

_2 - Dive Down Deep_

OoOoO

More. There had to be more.

"Your Majesty, the boat is full—we must turn back!"

More space. "No! We can fit one more!"

"He hasn't resurfaced. We don't know if he's still—"

More time. "He was _right there! _Bring us closer and give me more light."

The water's surface smouldered as a flaming torch rose high behind her. Anna thrust the oar into the water. "Come on, come on… _please_."

"Your Majesty…"

She shook her head furiously, scattering droplets from her sopping hair. "I _saw_ him! He's just a kid… he must be so scared. We can't just—wait! Hold the light still."

But the torchlight jerked erratically and threw the water back into the black.

Anna nearly screamed in frustration. "I said, _hold the_—"

Except she didn't come face to face with old Mr. Sandberg, who had a poor reputation for hogging the fishing waters yet had been the first to volunteer his boat when Anna raised the alarm. The torch had been passed down to the woman behind Anna, whose wet hair was matted down over her face so all that was visible were a pair of wide grey eyes sitting above purple lips. She clutched the torch with both hands, but still she shivered so badly that it zigzagged uncontrollably above her head.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she gasped out, teeth chattering. "I c-c-ca… ca…n't…"

Anna stared at the pale faces huddled in the boat, all of them shivering violently. And something inside her crumpled. The oar went slack in her white-knuckled grip. "No," she croaked. "_I'm_ sorry… I'm so, so sorry."

This was a boat intended for squirming fish nets and buckets of bait and occasionally a few bottles of akevitt shared between mates. It was never made for leaning over the water to shout "Take my hand!" or for people to collapse over each other as they heaved and sobbed and curled up.

Wasn't there more she could do?

For a long while, the only sounds were chattering teeth and sniffling. Finally, Anna looked at Mr. Sandberg and gave him a small, defeated nod. He ran a weathered hand over his bald crown and began to turn the boat around.

They all heard the splash.

Anna's head jerked up. She scrambled back to the boat's edge and squinted desperately into the water. "Light," she choked out. Then, more urgently: "Light!"

More trembling hands helped to steady the woman's torch, holding it higher, casting enough light for Anna to—"I see him. _I see him_."

The boy had resurfaced even further away from them, his white face barely visible, too far for the oars to reach. Anna drew her hair back and wrapped it into a loose knot as Mr. Sandberg wrestled to turn them back. The boat rocked and groaned, moving at glacial speed.

"Stop the boat, Mr. Sandberg. We can't afford to capsize."

"But Queen Anna, the boy—"

She plunged into the water.

OoOoO

The first person they'd dragged out of the fjord hadn't been responsive. Anna had run for help while Kristoff pumped on the stranger's chest. Not once had she doubted that she would return to the sight of the woman coughing and choking and breathing. Revived.

But Kristoff was still doing compressions. His pained eyes met hers and she stared back uncomprehendingly because _none of this made sense_. How could there be a woman lying unmoving on the same dock where they had strolled hand in hand just minutes ago? What was she even doing in the fjord in the first place? Where had she come from?

More screams and shouts echoed in the distance.

Mr. Sandberg protested when she jumped into his boat. But he took one look at her expression and wisely clammed up.

The second person they pulled up passed out after vomiting up an ocean.

The third one couldn't stop crying.

The fourth made it to the boat on his own. He grabbed Anna's ankle and wouldn't let go until he sucked in enough breath to wheeze, "Please… th-there's more."

When he told them exactly _how many more_, Kristoff had distractedly kissed her brow and made her promise to be careful before swimming back to shore to gather more help. Because there was no time to turn the boat back when _that many_ people were out there.

They needed more help, more boats, more time, more space. But Anna only wished to find more people alive.

OoOoO

She'd been wet and shivering in the wind for so long that the fjord somehow felt warm. It was hard to see, but she'd seen dark before and this was nothing like it. She wasn't sitting helplessly. She was in movement. So she swam.

And then there was the boy and his desperate gasps. His flailing hand caught her in the face as she tried to grab him. "Hey, it's okay—ow, hello—I've got you. I've got you."

"Your Majesty!" Mr. Sandberg shouted. The torchlight had been stretched out as far out as possible, just enough to catch them in its perimeter.

"We're fine!" Anna called back. She smiled down at the boy. "We're fine, aren't we? Here, put your other arm around me. Let's catch our breath first. The boat's going so slow I think we can swim back to shore faster than them. What do you think?"

The boy didn't speak. He didn't give her his other hand, either. His eyes followed her face, but they didn't seem to see her. He was in shock. And he was slipping. Anna had already manoeuvred him onto his back, her arm wrapped across his chest, and was kicking hard enough for the both of them. He shouldn't be this heavy.

"You stuck, buddy? Are your legs caught on something?"

He blinked slowly.

Anna gave him her best grin and tried to stop her teeth from chattering together. Maybe not feeling the cold wasn't a good thing. "Don't worry, it's no big deal. Who needs a knight in shining armour when you've got an actual queen, right? We'll have you free in no time."

Something finally flickered in the boy's shadowed eyes.

"What? You think I don't look queenly? Pshh. Are monarchs where _you're_ from friends with a reindeer and a talking snowman? I'll introduce you to them when we're dry. But before that, I'm going to need you to float on your own for a bit longer. I won't let you sink. Do you trust me?"

The boy blinked again. It was like the fear had drained out of him and washed out all other feeling with it. He didn't panic when Anna slowly released him, even though he sank almost immediately, his pale little face struggling to stay above water. Something was definitely dragging him down.

"Good boy," Anna whispered. Then she dived back under, feeling her way down. She found the boy's right arm and tried to give him a reassuring pat only to find it unusually taut. And long.

She swam deeper. Then liquid dread started flowing backwards through her veins and it took everything in her not to scream underwater.

She resurfaced, gasping. The boy latched back onto her neck and she swallowed a rush of water. But she put her arms around him and held him_, _trying to drown herself in his grief so she wouldn't have to think about what kept brushing against her leg.

It took several restarts before she managed to ask, "Do you want to tell me who that is?"

No response.

"I-Is it your father? Mother? Big sister?"

His dark lips parted slightly.

"Sister?"

A tiny nod.

_All she had ever wanted was to keep her sister safe._

Anna swallowed. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay… hey, we don't really know each other yet, huh? I'm Anna. What's your name?"

Silence.

She swept dark strands of hair out of his eyes. "What about your sister's?" she asked softly.

And finally, he looked right at her. "… Sofia." His voice was surprisingly steady. Flat.

Anna forced herself to smile back. "We're not going to leave Sofia behind, okay? I'll send people back for her, and once you're safe and dry, you can see her again. I promise. And I promise she hasn't left you, either. Not forever."

_She didn't know what awaited beyond the mist, but she wasn't worried because her sister had promised they would do it together._

"You just… belong in different places now. You'll miss her—a lot. And that's okay. Because when you get back up, you're going to hear her voice teaching you how to do the next right thing, and you'll realise someday that she doesn't have to be _here_ to be _with_ you."

Anna reached down and found the boy's hand underwater, clutching his sister's in a death grip. "We'll do it together. Okay?"

The boy stared at her, his eyes dark as the sea. At some point, his gaze had gone from vacant to piercing. He was seeing her now, but Anna needed him to listen to her, too. Her legs were starting to burn, and she wasn't sure she could drag the boy back to the boat if she couldn't get him to let go—

He nodded.

She exhaled in relief and squeezed his hand.

And then the whole fjord glowed. Anna clutched the boy to her as water rushed and whipped around them. Then something hard and cold hit them from below and—

They were back into the realm of gravity. The entire fjord had been transformed into good and solid ground. _Ice_.

Anna's head snapped toward the dock, but droplets of water suspended in the air obscured her vision. They were everywhere—rising from her hair and clothes, appearing as glistening pillars above the boats. It was a rainstorm being pulled back into the heavens.

_She was on a shattered ship surrounded by beautiful, terrible marbles of liquid memory, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what happened to them._

A great snowflake woke the sky, hanging above Arendelle like an astrological ornament. Then that, too, dispersed like stardust—and all was dry.

Anna didn't know whether to laugh or sob. "Guess what? That's my sis—" She choked off.

The boy was staring at _his_ sister's body, now sprawled on the ice a short distance away. Sofia lay on her side, thick auburn hair strewn across her face. She was beautiful. She was not sleeping.

_There were flecks of snow escaping through her fingers and all she could hear was "I think she may have gone too far."_

The boy's gaze went hollow once more. He didn't go to his sister. He didn't look at Anna. Without saying a word, he staggered to his feet and began the long walk towards Arendelle. Not once did he look back. Anna knew she had to get up and follow him. But her knees had forgotten how to fight gravity.

People rushed from the docks towards those collapsed on the ice. Crowds swarmed around the grounded boats to help the passengers clamber out. Some needed to be carried away. Names were called out in hoarse, desperate cries as survivors searched for their families.

There were many unmoving shapes scattered across the ice.

And, distantly, Anna saw one person moving towards her.

She didn't remember rising from the floor. She didn't think of the last time she had raced across this same frozen fjord towards the same person, or the last time she'd blinked away tears, whispering, _Is it really you?_ She didn't look too far ahead. She couldn't.

She just broke it down to the next step, the next breath. And when she threw herself into Elsa's arms, she made the choice to cry.

OoOoO

The queen was pale and red-eyed, her hair a bramble bush. She charged into the council chamber in a disorganised attire of General Mattias's military jacket, a pair of ice slippers, and what seemed to be the only piece of clothing from her own wardrobe: a pair of riding pants.

Without a greeting, a smile, or even the usual stumble on the rug, Queen Anna took her seat at the head of the table. The Snow Queen stood on her right, spotless and poised, but also appearing frayed at the edges. She nodded politely back at the councillors who, unable to gauge the queen's uncharacteristic demeanour, caught her eye instead. But Princess Elsa didn't speak. No one did, for only the queen could open a meeting of the privy council.

A maid entered carrying a tray bearing tea and mugs of hot cocoa for the queen and princess. Queen Anna murmured "Thanks, Gerda" in a hoarse voice. Before she could drink, though, Princess Elsa reached out to touch the mug. There was a faint hiss of steam and Queen Anna smiled wanly up at her sister.

Councillor Iver Belland watched the exchange and thought: _children._

The queen's face was hidden for a long time, but when she eventually lowered the mug, her cheeks had regained some colour. So had her eyes.

She licked froth from her upper lip, missed a spot, and looked up at her councillors. Sighing, she reluctantly said, "Go on, then. Let's hear it."

The room erupted into voices.

"Your Majesty, you could have drowned!"

"You should not have been without your guard, let alone—"

"No one doubts your courage, but your recklessness—"

"What if it had been a trap?"

"What if you couldn't swim?"

"What if the cold had given you frostbite?"

"What if reinforcements hadn't arrived in time?"

"What if—"

"Okay—but what if I _care_ about not watching people die in front of my eyes?" The queen's impatient snap silenced them. A second later, she seemed to realise the brusqueness of her tone. She drew back as hesitation darted across her face.

Belland and the other councillors had been privy to plenty such moments over the past three months, and so were braced for the next thing Queen Anna would do; something no sensible monarch should do—apologise.

Then she blinked again and surprised them by seeming to sweep the moment aside—no, she _fought_ it. She stared down the table at Mona Roys and said blankly, "'What if I can't _swim_?' Really?"

Roys flushed. As overseer of the kingdom's education system, she had no doubt forgotten that the queen was not another of her young charges. Roys' position hadn't existed until the first year of Queen Elsa's rule, when the young queen had strode into a meeting with an armful of handwritten notes on the inconsistent learning outcomes, literacy rates, and instructional styles throughout the kingdom. She quoted policies from texts in foreign languages. Then, with a pinch of nervousness, she had constructed an ice model of the school, including scaffoldings of a three-year expansion plan because she wished not only to provide for the children but also grown men and women who had missed out on proper schooling in their youth.

At the end of it all, she had looked up with her sister's same, familiar uncertainty, and said to the councillors' slack-jawed faces, "May I receive your counsel on this matter?"

No one had questioned where she'd found the time to prepare such an elaborate proposal on her own. They had not questioned the accuracy of her architectural models. It was the first time since the accidental winter that none of them had thought to question _her_.

But today, Belland had noticed her absence at the school's opening ceremony. That, he questioned.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, we are all well-acquainted with your worrying lack of regard for your own safety." All heads turned to stare at Hakon Erling. He sat at the far end of the table, yet that distance seemed to shrink as he spoke. "But Arendelle looks to its queen, and tonight your actions have me wondering if you have forgotten that queen is now you."

A ring of stunned silence. Then the heads swivelled back to Queen Anna, who blinked like she wasn't sure what had just been said.

Belland heard an almost imperceptible crackle and noticed that steam had stopped rising from his untouched tea. He also saw Erling's eyes flash briefly to the Snow Queen, then away again.

Barely a decade older than her, Erling wasn't simply the youngest advisor present—he was the youngest person in Arendellian history to sit on the privy council. None could say he had merely inherited the seat, either, because Hakon had only been a babe when his father died. He wouldn't have any memories of his father's work, but Belland did. He'd watched the boy grow up and could say without bias that Hakon Erling was a prodigy who had unerringly earned his place as the youngest head of trade and foreign relations.

The only problem was that in the last few months, Erling seemed to think that made him untouchable.

It was Mikkel Davidsen, a mountain bear of a man who defied all expectations of what a treasurer and bookkeeper should look like, who growled, "Erling, _you_ are the one who forgets himself."

Erling's cool gaze switched targets. "What I haven't forgotten is my job. What use does the queen have for an advisor who speaks only what she wants to hear?"

"It is not up to _you_ to presume the queen's wants."

Queen Anna slammed both hands on the table so hard the teacups rattled in their saucers. "Gentlemen! Can we please shelve this debate over my clumsiness till we don't have a flock of refugees shivering on our dock?"

_There she is,_ Belland thought to himself.

For the first time since the meeting began, he spoke up. "We do not know that they are necessarily refugees, Your Majesty."

"We do. They are." Queen Anna grimaced. "We received a… letter. From the king of the Southern Isles—well, the new king."

"King Johan is dead?" Harald Fisker, the minister of agriculture, ran a hand over his salt and pepper beard. "Forgive my callousness, ma'am, but to that I say good riddance. The man was a tyrant."

Princess Elsa motioned to the chamberlain, who drew a crinkled parchment from his jacket and handed it to her. She slid it across the table. "This letter only just arrived, but we think it is safe to assume that King Johan passed away weeks ago. Prince Caleb is now king of the Southern Isles."

"Then surely the bloated bodies of his people in our fjord aren't his idea of inviting our queen to his coronation."

The queen in question flinched. Some of her drink spilled onto the table, which the chamberlain immediately mopped up.

"Fisker, you speak too coarsely," berated Davidsen.

Like the rest of the village, Belland and the other councillors had been roused by the commotion and had been present at the dock, which had buzzed and bustled with the wrong energy. Frantic movement next to holes of eerie stillness. Sobs and urgent voices in place of friendly banter between fishermen as they sorted their day's catch. And, like the rest of the people, the councillors had seen the ice, the water, the snowflake in the sky. But they had seen all that many times in three years.

What they hadn't witnessed before was their usually boisterous queen slumped amid her sister's magic, sobbing in front of the entire kingdom.

"It's fine," the queen said, with a voice and face that indicated the opposite. "Kristoff and General Mattias are looking after them right now. One of the people we saved—he told me there were six boats."

"That all sank at the same time?" Davidsen said with a raised eyebrow. "Don't we think that seems rather suspicious?" Roys and Fisker murmured their agreement.

"It's a treacherous five-day journey across the North Sea," Princess Elsa pointed out. "These people rowed in overloaded fishing boats with nothing but the clothes on their back. It's a miracle they made it as far as they did."

"Perhaps that is just what they want us to think."

Queen Anna stared at Erling. "Excuse me? There are... people are _dead_. "

"No one is refuting that, ma'am. I only question—"

She shook her head sharply. "I saw a boy half my age who nearly drowned because he refused to let go of his sister's body. I saw people shivering so badly that it took five of them to hold one torch still. I saw parents holding babies who weren't crying. Why don't you go and ask them what they wanted us to _think_?"

Erling's eyes narrowed. But he bowed his head in acquiescence.

The queen swallowed and visibly gathered herself. "Look, we can suspect them after we help them. Our first priority is preparing hot food and collecting enough bedrolls that they'll be comfortable in the Great Hall tonight. We can question them once they've had time to recover."

There was a long pause.

Finally, Fisker ventured, "The Great Hall? Your Majesty means to let them into the castle?"

"Of course. We have plenty of space."

Davidsen shifted his great body in his too-small seat. "They are from the Southern Isles, ma'am. With whom we do not have a—"

"Good relationship? Trust me, I know," the queen said dryly. "But the only similarities between these people and Hans are where they came from, and that they both ended up in our fjord at some point. _They_ didn't try to marry me or kill my sister. Why shouldn't we help them?"

"I'm not suggesting that we shouldn't, Your Majesty, but to trust them in the castle? That is like inviting a snake into your home. It is not a good image."

Before the queen could shoot back a response, Princess Elsa answered calmly, "If you believe that a kingdom's people should pay for the mistakes of their royal family, then I clearly haven't made enough amends over these past three years."

Davidsen and Fisker instantly went mute.

_Well played_, Belland mused, thumbing the ivory head of his cane.

Queen Anna looked up worriedly at her sister, who only smiled and nudged her half-finished hot cocoa towards her. The queen drank deeply once more. When she resurfaced, her expression was resolute. "We're letting them in. We're a kingdom of plenty. What does it say about us if we don't stand for the good and the many?"

Only Roys nodded back.

Belland reached for the Southern Isles missive sitting on the table and smoothed out its curious state of dishevelment.

"Very well, Your Majesty, Your Highness," Davidsen was saying. "But that still begs the question: what were these 'refugees' taking refuge from?"

The queen and princess shared a look.

"Apparently, Caleb's brothers aren't happy that he's king. Elsa and I talked to some refugees before we came. It sounds bad. Their army and people have been split; it's a full-blown coup."

"_Another_ civil war," Fisker tutted. "Why do those Westergaards insist on reproducing like rabbits if history has never seen them properly get along?"

"But King Caleb's claim to the throne is unquestionable. He is the firstborn and their father's legitimate heir." Roys blinked as a thought occurred to her. "Unless... he's not?"

Erling barked out a laugh. "Caleb, illegitimate? Good luck with that. He is the spitting image of Johan, only fifty pounds lighter and thrice as mean."

"There is something else." Princess Elsa paused, clasping her hands. "We heard rumours that King Johan didn't die of sickness… or accident."

"_Oh_," Roys said dumbly.

Fisker crowed, "What did I say about them not getting along? Regicide _and_ patricide!"

"I can see the truth in that," Erling said in a disaffected tone, drumming the table. "King Johan wasn't adored by his people but even compared to him, Caleb's methods have always been more bandit than prince. Spoiled completely rotten. I haven't visited the Isles since we cut ties with them, but I can imagine Caleb's only gotten worse. If Johan was killed for trying to reel him in, it's his own fault for not doing so earlier."

He shrugged. "Then again, I suspect his brothers would've gone after him, even if he'd turned out to be the Lord's chosen one. Like Harald said, there's no love lost between the Westergaard baker's dozen. With their father gone, it's now free game."

Davidsen rotated his neck with a loud crack, and scoffed, "In that case, let them hack and slash it out between themselves. We only need to sit back and see who's the last one standing. It was conceited enough for this King Caleb to write to our queen about his kingdom's self-invited problems."

"He wants Arendelle's support."

The other councillors swivelled and stared at Belland. He held up the letter.

Fisker burst into incredulous laughter. "That is some gall! Asking us for help after what his brother attempted three years ago."

"He's not asking. He would like the queen to bolster his forces as a 'token of good faith'. If we refuse, he promises to take Arendelle's desertion as an insult."

"'_Good faith'_?" Davidsen nearly roared. "What a madman!"

"There's more," Princess Elsa said. She nodded at Belland.

"'_Should you refuse my call for aid, I will have no choice but to assume that your kingdom is aiding and abetting one of my treasonous brothers. When my throne is secure once more, rest assured, Arendelle will come to know the full force of my retribution. I look forward to a fruitful alliance between our kingdoms._'"

A long silence dragged out.

"Madman," Davidsen repeated, this time in a hiss.

"This is… it is blackmail!" Fisker sounded disgusted. "How deluded must he be to think that he has the upper hand?"

"The thing is," Queen Anna said slowly, "he kind of does."

"Your Majesty?"

She smiled spiritlessly at Erling. "Hey, Hakon. Now's a good time to tell me I'm wrong."

Belland arched an eyebrow at the familiarity. Until he remembered that when then-Princess Anna had been appointed Arendelle's official ambassador, she and Erling had often crossed paths as dignitaries. The trips they'd taken together had raised gossip of the princess one day realising that Erling was a more suitable match than that mountain man of hers. Yet the two of them had only remained close friends, and despite Erling's recent prickliness, it appeared that Queen Anna hadn't forgotten that.

Erling's hard expression twitched with the hint of a smile. Then he was business-like once more. "Unfortunately, Your Majesty is correct. It would not bode well for Arendelle to come under attack from the Southern Isles. Theirs is a kingdom of great military strength."

"That sounds like an exaggeration." Roys pulled at a loose thread on her nightgown, trying and failing to conceal her rising anxiety. "I know they are wealthy, but at the end of the day, they are just seven islands in the middle of the sea with inhospitable wind and terrain."

"There is danger in that underestimation," Erling said. "Do we all know what the Southern Isles' primary exports are?"

"Fish," Fisker answered immediately.

"That shiny black rock unique to their islands, for jewellery and statues," Davidsen offered.

"There's one more."

"Mercenaries," the queen and princess said simultaneously. They looked at each other. _Jinx_, the younger one mouthed.

"I don't follow," Roys said. "Fish, rocks… and mercenaries?"

"Compulsory conscription," Erling explained impatiently. "In times of peace, the king holds onto his main army and loans men in his reserves to any who can pay. Technically, they are not 'mercenaries' since they still belong to the Southern Isles army, bound to their second employer by contract but owing first allegiance to their king."

"That sounds like a risky arrangement to buy into."

"Yet it gives these so-called mercenaries credibility. They can't turn on their employers or have their loyalties bought off, which is always a problem with freelancers. Well-trained, disciplined soldiers fetch a high price, especially those willing to do the dirty work. Even before you factor in that the Southern Isles' military program ranks among the toughest in Scandinavia."

"It's a really smart move if you think about it," the queen said grudgingly. "Fewer mouths to feed, no overpopulation, _and_ money to be made out of it. It also builds relationships and makes bigger nations think twice about attacking when there are probably Southern Isles soldiers in their own countries. Which the king can summon from all over the world."

"You sound like you admire them, ma'am," Belland observed.

"Well, it is a neat strategy. But to think that one third of their economy depends on violence, and that it's somehow _normal_ for them?" Queen Anna shivered. "It's terrifying." Belatedly, she seemed to realise Belland's implication and stared at him in horror. "I-I'm not saying we should try it in Arendelle!"

Belland inclined his head, sensing the Snow Queen watching him.

"If Caleb called all his forces back, they would not only outnumber us," Erling went on, reaching for the sugar pot, "their soldiers will be ready to fight, no matter where they come from. Whereas it has been thirty-four years since Arendelle has seen a proper battle. Even without the numbers, the south has the experience. We may have a strong defensive position, but if our navy were to meet theirs in the North Sea…" He dropped a sugar cube into his tea. "It should only be to ensure a safe evacuation of the royal family."

The queen bit her lip, but didn't say anything.

"Are you saying," Fisker said incredulously, "that we have no choice but to _submit_ to these preposterous demands?"

It did not escape Belland's notice that in the councillor's moment of trepidation, he looked to the Snow Queen.

She shook her head. "No. Anna and I both agree that Arendelle's forces should remain here. We can't rely on King Caleb behaving logically or honourably. He may turn around and attack us regardless of our aid."

"Then our defence will be even weaker because half our men went to fight and die for someone else's _stupid _war." The queen squeezed her eyes shut. "Sorry," she mumbled.

There it was.

"You have nothing to apologise for, ma'am," Roys said quickly.

"It is late," Davidsen added, his gruff voice softening. "Her Majesty is exhausted and needs rest."

The queen threw up her hands and let out a loud huff. "No—what I need is to get on a ship and offer my own '_fruitful alliance'_ between Caleb's face and my knuckles."

"_Anna_," Princess Elsa chided while hiding an obvious smile.

"Just admit it, sis—you loved watching me deck Hans. And I've definitely gotten stronger after all those hiking trips with Kristoff. From the right angle, I think I could knock Caleb to Spain."

"There is another option," Erling said.

"Fine. _Russia_."

"… To defend Arendelle, ma'am."

She perked up. "There is?"

"King Caleb kindly suggested it himself."

It took only a moment for Belland to understand. "'_I will have no choice but to assume that your kingdom is aiding and abetting one of my treasonous brothers'._"

"Exactly. Why be hunted when we could become the hunter? At this stage, there are three positive outcomes: Caleb bluffing, Caleb losing too many soldiers to march on Arendelle, or Caleb losing the Southern Isles altogether." He looked around the table. "We can guarantee two of those three simply by lending our support to his opposition."

"You're suggesting that we back his brothers," Roys deduced.

"No," the queen said immediately. Her smile had vanished. She looked to her sister for agreement, but the Snow Queen's attention was fixed on Erling, her brow furrowed, lips pursed. Queen Anna turned back at Erling and said, more firmly, "_No_."

"If I may elaborate, Your Majesty—I have met all the Westergaard princes. Most of them are no better than Caleb; I daresay a handful are actually worse and could be working with him. But I can think of some who would appreciate our help in removing their father's murderer and can be trusted to keep their word."

"What, because a man who kills his own brother is somehow more trustworthy than the one who killed his father? If we help _any_ of them, they could still turn around and attack us. It doesn't change anything."

"Caleb only threatens war because of pride; he cannot stomach defeat so he uses underhanded measures. Pride cannot be reasoned with, but the new king would be a fool to—"

The queen's voice rose. "_We_ would be the fools to believe that any prince on those miserable islands with a line of succession all the way to Antarctica _wouldn't_ want to invade a lush, prosperous kingdom while its army is away! With or without pride."

"That is why we bind them to a new alliance—"

"Oh, wonderful—because our _old_ alliance did such a fantastic job discouraging Hans from trying to steal the kingdom, didn't it?"

Erling's eyes flashed. "Perhaps he would not have been half as successful if our crown princess hadn't named him _regent_ without consulting anyone, and run off to climb a mountain with no guards or foresight!"

Roys gasped. Davidsen shoved his seat back, face red as a bull's.

But it was Queen Anna who shot to her feet first, glaring at Erling as if they weren't queen and councillor quarrelling in front of an audience like siblings. "You know what? That _was_ stupid of me. How many times do you want me to admit it? I panicked and left Arendelle vulnerable in the hands of someone I'd just met that day. But I didn't know _you_ yet, did I? And now that I do, Hakon, I'm glad I _couldn't_ leave you in charge, because the way you've been acting lately, Elsa and I might have come back to the kingdom already in the middle of a war _you _keep trying to drag us into."

Erling stood, too, cheeks flushed. He was not a particularly tall man and stood eye to eye with the queen, a table of stunned councillors caught between them. "And what would you have us do, _Your Majesty?_ Pray day and night for Caleb's clemency? Pretend you never got his letter? You are supposed to be the queen of—"

"So you haven't forgotten."

The Snow Queen spoke softly, but her words commanded the room in an instant. Everyone's attention had been so focused on Queen Anna and Erling that no one had paid attention to Princess Elsa's silence. Or the frost that had fogged up the chamber's windows.

Her gaze bore down on Erling, cerulean eyes glinting like shards of ice. "I worried for a moment that you had forgotten she is your queen, Councillor."

Impressively, Erling didn't recoil from her glacial tone. He pulled at his collar and straightened his shirt. "If I had forgotten that, Your Highness, I would not be trying to offer her my counsel."

"I seem to recall you offering me counsel in a very different manner."

"That is because Your Highness did not refuse to listen to sound advice out of a prejudice born from her own naïve mistake."

Only after the words had left his mouth, did Erling seem to realise he had gone too far. But it was too late.

Very quietly, the Snow Queen said, "I trust you remember which of _my_ mistakes sent Anna up the North Mountain, Councillor."

Belland watched Erling's neck twitch as he swallowed. Despite the drastic drop in temperature, he was the only one whose breath rose in white puffs before his face. When it became apparent that not answering was not an option, he muttered, "I do, Your Highness."

"Then I hope you will also remember what it looks like when I am in control. I suggest you excuse yourself from this meeting, Councillor Erling. If your queen will allow it."

Erling clenched his jaw and seemed to focus on a point over the queen's shoulder. "Your Majesty," he said stiffly. "May I take my leave?"

Queen Anna's face showed everything. Anger had dominated most of the exchange, but now she stared at Erling with an emotion that, like an apology, most monarchs could not afford to show. _Hurt_. She nodded wordlessly.

He left.

Princess Elsa let out a long breath. The frost had evaporated from the windows, but the high-ceilinged chamber did not regain its warmth. "Excuse me," she murmured. "Kai, could you please add another log to the fire?"

The steward obliged, unfazed by the turn of events.

"Erling's not been himself these past few months," Davidsen grunted with a shake of his head. "But now I suspect he's lost his mind."

The queen was quiet, her confused gaze caught on Erling's empty chair. Her sister squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Sorry, I—" She stopped and took a deep breath. "I haven't asked what everyone else thinks of Caleb's letter."

With Erling gone, the ministers of education, agriculture, and the treasury all turned to Belland. The legal advisor who had scarcely spoken so far.

He folded his hands over his cane and met the queen's expectant gaze. "We do not have to worry about King Caleb while his full attention is on the coup. It may last months. This gives us time to contact our allies and inform them of the situation. It would be wise to gain a better grasp of the conflict's scope before acting."

The queen nodded back, visibly relieved. "Thank you, Councillor Belland. We shall do that."

"The refugees, however, require more immediate attention. Your Majesty's mind remains unchanged on the matter of taking them in?"

Dishevelled and young, the queen did not look like a queen. She did not speak like a queen. She barely thought like a queen. But when she said simply, "It's the right thing to do," no one thought to question her.

_More,_ thought Belland. He needed to see more.

OoOoO

The moment the chamber doors closed behind Kai and the councillors, Elsa turned to Anna and they both asked at the same time: "Are you okay?"

They traded weary smiles. Anna chuckled, "Jinx again?"

Elsa held out her hand. "Come on."

She pulled Anna to the hearth and deposited her in an armchair before crossing over to put another log on the fire, summoning a small breeze to fan it. When she turned around, Anna had wrapped her arms around her legs and was watching with a goofy smile that made Elsa laugh. "What?"

"Do you have to make your own campfire in the Forest? Or do you just get Bruni to, like, sneeze?"

Her sister scooted over to make space on the chair, which was wide and deep-seated enough to fit both of them. "I'm not bothered by the cold, remember? You, though, are going to catch one. Your hands are freezing."

Anna held out her hands and Elsa, wishing for the opposite of her powers, absentmindedly rubbed them. Neither of them spoke for a long while, listening to the crackling fire.

Elsa realised she was hoping the flames would flash violet.

Then Anna let out a hissed "Ow!" She pulled her right hand out of Elsa's and squinted at her forefinger. "Is that a splinter?"

Elsa leaned over in alarm. "Where?"

"Probably from the boat. I was holding this oar so I could—"

"No, I meant—never mind, just let me see it."

She wished she hadn't asked. There was a horribly visible sliver lodged in Anna's finger at such a shallow angle that nearly the entire length of it was submersed, creating a long and narrow shadow beneath the skin. Just seeing it made Elsa feel faint. "Don't move," she ordered tightly, crafting a pair of tweezers. Then, for safe measure, she made a magnifying glass and passed it to Anna. "Hold this for me."

"How do you just _know_ how to make everything?" Anna pointed the glass at Elsa's face. "And how on earth is your skin so clear?"

"Anna! Can we please focus on the inch-long splinter in your finger?"

"Oh, it's not that bad. The one in my foot? Now _that _was an inch; it was practically a nail, actually. It was so silly. I was climbing a tree and my shoe—"

"_Stop. Moving_." Elsa peered at her sister's finger, tweezer hovering uncertainly over the splinter's dark tip. Were tweezers even the correct tool? What if she ended up pushing it even further in? What if part of it broke off and stayed embedded forever? What if it got infected?

Anna had craned her neck to see Elsa's face and was now staring dumbfoundedly at her with what Kristoff called her 'lightbulb eyes'. "Um, Elsa? Have you never gotten a splinter before?"

She failed to see how this was relevant when _there was a needle sticking out of her sister's dominant hand._ "I don't climb trees. Now will you _please stay still_?"

"Oh. My. Gosh." Anna cupped her free hand to her mouth, eyes swimming with laughter. "How have you never… in your _whole life_?"

"Why is that so surprising? It's hardly a developmental milestone." Elsa huffed and thrust the tweezers at her sister. "Would you like to use your ample experience to pull it out yourself?"

"Nah, I'm only good at getting the splinters in, not out. But it can't be that hard; Mother used to just yank them out with her fingers."

"But what if I hurt you?"

"God, Elsa, if you make me have _that_ conversation with you one more time, I swear I'll tell the kitchen not to serve you dessert ever again."

Elsa started to wonder if she'd left the kingdom in the hands of a tyrant. "All right… if you're sure. But I still want you to hold the magnifying glass so I can see it better. And _tell me_ if it hurts."

"It won't," Anna sang as she tucked her head into the crook of Elsa's neck and obligingly held out the glass. Which swayed because she was clearly trying to make light trails on the wall.

Ignoring the white-hot pressure behind her eyes, Elsa brought the tweezers to Anna's finger, rigid with concentration. "It really doesn't hurt?" she murmured.

"No, the ice is numbing everything. Seriously, sis, it's just a splinter. It's not going to kill me."

_The docks swarmed with battered boats unloading drenched bodies that cried and called for each other, and some were as eerily still as the broken hull of her parents' ship—but none of them was her little sister. Anna was nowhere to be seen, and it was impossible to tell if that was a good or bad thing._

"Anna?"

"Mm?"

"Can you please keep talking?"

Her sister immediately raised her head. "What's wrong?"

_An ocean dripped from Kristoff's clothes as he turned to her with a desperate look that seemed to say "Can't you freeze the fjord or something?"_

"Elsa?"

"I'll tell you later. I promise," she added when Anna didn't look satisfied. "Why don't you talk to me about Councillor Erling? I don't remember him being so confrontational."

The mention of Hakon Erling soured Anna's mood immediately. She flopped back against Elsa with a hefty sigh. "I don't know. He's been weird since the coronation. At first I thought he didn't like that you abdicated, which I totally get because obviously you were fantastic at being queen."

"Anna, please don't—"

"I know, I know; shouldn't compare two sides of the same bridge, right? But visitors always ask about you and I still get mail with your name on it. You can't change that you were a great queen, Elsa—it's a _good thing_, so you're not allowed to feel guilty. Anyway, I don't think that's why Hakon was strange. He wasn't exactly respectful towards you, either." Anna sighed again. "Can you believe we used to be friends?"

What Elsa couldn't believe was that there even existed a person who could refuse Anna's friendship after knowing her. Then she blinked. "I got it."

"You figured out why Hakon's being such a jerk?"

"No, I…" Elsa held up the tweezers. "I got it out."

Anna stared at the splinter clenched at the end of the ice pincers, then down at her hand. And then she grinned at Elsa, just like she had when they learned that love would thaw. "I knew you could do it. I'm still telling Kristoff, though."

"Tell me what?"

They both peered over the back of the armchair to see Kristoff shouldering through the door, both hands full with plates. Which he hastily raised above his head just in time to keep Anna from knocking them to the ground the same way she audibly knocked the wind out of him when she leapt up to tackle him. Elsa got a warm sense of déjà vu.

"Uh, Anna, it's good to see you too, but could you—"

"I'm sorry I left you behind," she mumbled into his broad chest. "I didn't want to. Council meeting."

"I know, you told me. And you didn't leave me behind; you left me in charge. Big difference. Now, you should really—"

"You smell…" Anna sniffed him and recoiled. "_Really _bad!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." Kristoff looked over his wife's head and rolled his eyes at Elsa.

She smiled back, shrugging.

"You need a shower. Like, right now. Elsa, can you do it?"

"I can only freeze the moisture and get him dry. If cleaning him were in my abilities, I would not have struggled so badly getting him and Sven into a bath for your birthday."

"Trust me, drying down is way more useful." Kristoff looked at Elsa. "You saved a lot of people from hypothermia and frostbite tonight."

_She could freeze the fjord, but she couldn't simply _freeze _all the water. It wasn't a matter of letting loose; she had to sculpt. But this wasn't an ice rink, or a palace carved of symmetrical fractals. There was no geometry, no repeating patterns, no calculable vectors. She only knew that she needed to _raise _everything, everyone, without freezing or trapping them, still swimming and breathing, in the ice. Without being able to see them. And she knew, like she'd known when racing the flood to save Arendelle, that she couldn't do it alone—because the ice was hers, but the water wasn't._

Anna peppered Kristoff with questions as he made his way to the hearth. "Are they in the Great Hall now? Do we need more physicians? I should go check on them."

"Whoa, slow down," he cut in. "We're still trying to get them settled in. It's practically the crack of dawn, and I bet neither of you have eaten since dinner. So you're not going anywhere until these plates are clean." He had brought sandwiches, cheese, and a pyramid of potato lefse.

Elsa didn't feel hungry, but perhaps it was because her stomach felt so hollow it was past that point. She cast Kristoff a grateful smile. "I see you found the kitchen." He chuckled sheepishly and made a shushing motion.

They ate on the floor in front of the fire. Cramming cheese into her mouth, Anna suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, Kristoff! I have to tell you this—can you believe Elsa's _never_ had a splinter before? She completely freaked out when she found one in my finger earlier. It was hilarious."

"_Another_ splinter? Did she get it out? How big was it? Did you rinse the wound? You should put honey on it to keep infection out."

"_Thank you_," Elsa told him, while Anna slapped a hand to her face and groaned, "What am I going to do with you two?"

Anna recounted the council meeting, using body language to make up for what she lacked in verbal intelligibility and sending bits of sandwich flying everywhere. When she reached the part involving Councillor Erling, Kristoff choked on a piece of ham.

"He said _what_ to you?"

Anna thumped his back with the force of a thunderclap. "I know! I was so shocked because he's been grumpy for a while, but today he was just rude."

"Which one is Erling again?"

"The short one with glasses. Round head? My height?"

"Oh, _him_." Kristoff tore off a massive chunk of sandwich with his teeth and chewed moodily. "Good. Never liked him."

"Honey, you are expressly forbidden from punching him."

"Fine. I'll trip him in the corridor."

"You don't have to. Elsa already scared him off."

"Did she do it _Sven-is-a-reindeer_ style?"

"Even better. She threatened to turn him into a popsicle."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Elsa said, shaking her head. "Either of you."

From Kristoff, they learned that the surviving refugees were being transferred to the castle according to Anna's orders. General Mattias had organised guards to supervise them and ordered extra patrols around the dock and lighthouses in case more boats turned up.

"How many survivors?"

"At the last count, nearly forty. The townspeople really helped. We got blankets and a change of clothes for everyone. There's so much food coming in that the kitchen barely needs to cook anything."

"How many didn't…" Anna didn't have to finish.

Kristoff put an arm around her and murmured, "Nineteen."

_When she dipped into that gentle river within her subconsciousness, the water didn't answer her in a familiar thunder of hoofbeats. She waited and called and waited some more, but when no ripples stirred, she realised there was no choice but to do it on her own._

"Do you need more ice?" Elsa asked quietly. She could tell from Kristoff's expression that he understood what she meant.

"It's fine. What we have should last through the night in this climate."

It took several moments for Anna to catch on, and when she did her shoulders visibly drooped. She hugged her knees. "Where are we keeping them?" Then she answered her own question. "Oh. The dungeons."

"It's the only place no one goes that's cold enough," Kristoff said gently.

"Remind me to let the guards know the family can go down there if they want to… say goodbye."

"All right." Kristoff nodded and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "They told me to thank you. Both of you."

_Layer by layer, seabed to the surface; rising, rising. She could do it, could control it. Yet she felt the weight of the fjord stacking onto her ice like it was a physical pressure on her skull. The more water she shaved away, the more her head felt like it would burst. In the distance, she heard angry snorting._

_Where was Anna?_

A loud snore. Kristoff had nodded off with his head on the seat of the armchair behind him.

Anna gingerly slipped out from under his arm, kissed his brow, and scooted around the food to join Elsa. "So much for that shower. We'll need Sven to carry him to bed."

"I think I can do it."

"Are you sure about that? Because you don't look like you could lift _me_."

"With my _powers_, Anna," Elsa said dryly. "I could make a sled. Or float him on a bed of snow."

"Right. Of course. I'm pretty sure _I_ could lift _you_, by the way."

"Please don't try." Elsa nudged Anna with her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Her sister studied her wriggling toes. "I've been better. You?"

"Same." She resisted the urge to massage her throbbing temples. "Would you like me to fix your hair?"

"Gosh, yes. I completely forgot about that. I lost my hair ribbons in the fjord, so I just made a knot. Do you think it'll ever come out?"

"Let's find out." Elsa folded her legs to the side as Anna shuffled in front of her, giving her a cringeworthy view of the wild snarls in her sister's hair. "I may actually prefer removing splinters to this," she muttered as she pulled her fingers through the largest knot. After a while, though, it became oddly therapeutic. This, at least, she could fix.

"Guess what?" Anna said sleepily. "I just thought of something you've never needed magic to make."

_Mistakes. They thought she was making a mistake._

Then Anna fell back against her, and Elsa could no longer see what she was untangling. Just her sister's drowsy, contented smile as she said, "Better. You always make everything better."

And despite her bone-deep fatigue and the nineteen strangers lying motionless on her ice in the dungeons below them, Elsa managed to choke out a laugh. Sometimes she forgot that even after those memories had been removed, her little sister had still spent thirteen years asking to build a snowman with her. Because, apparently, she'd never stopped believing that Elsa herself was magic.

Then Elsa's head imploded.

_She knew they were there; she could sense them. But they could also sense her and it was different; it wasn't the same. She wasn't the same._

Anna became a blur of panic and concern. "Elsa? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine… it's just a headache." Her eyes watered.

"Why didn't you say anything? Do you need to lie down? Wait, is this what you wanted to tell me earlier?"

"No, I…" What could she say?

Anna watched her, biting her lip as a dozen emotions wrestled across her face. Then she visibly clamped down on every impulse and sighed, "Come lie down. No excuses."

So Elsa found herself curled up on her side with her head in Anna's lap and the fire warming her back. And when Anna rested her hand gently over Elsa's eyes, the way their mother used to when one of them fell asleep on the picnic blanket, the storm that raged behind her eyelids eased into a light pattering of rain. It felt like all they needed now was their mother's scarf. Then all would be right in the world once more.

"You should have told me you weren't feeling well." Anna sounded upset. "No wonder you were so quiet in the meeting."

"I was quiet because you didn't seem to need me."

"I _did_ need you. I wanted to run out and cry at least four times. Maybe seven."

"My sister needed me," Elsa corrected. "But the queen didn't. You were brilliant."

"And you were scary. We did it together."

_Not this time. This time, she was on her own and it felt far, far more hollow than before._

"Anna, I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"I tried to call the Nokk. To help the people in the water... but it didn't answer me."

Silence. Anna stopped stroking Elsa's hair. When she shifted Anna's hand away from her eyes, Elsa saw that her sister's face was a mask of dread. Tears had sprung into her widened eyes. "Don't tell me the Nokk… those boats…"

Elsa's own horror rose. She sat up a little too quickly, head spinning. "No! That's not—the Nokk had nothing to do with what happened. None of the spirits did. They are part of nature, but they don't interfere with what is natural."

"But Elsa, people were drowning. They were dying! How is that _natural?"_

And Elsa recalled what Anna had said in the meeting, about violence being a normal part of the Southern Isles' economy. Something they wouldn't think to be terrified of. "Anna… death is a part of nature, too."

"I know that. I _know _that, but…" There was anguish in Anna's voice. "How could they not _care?"_

_Her sister was her own force of nature as she snapped, "But what if I _care _about not watching people die in front of my eyes?" and it cut through the mist like an answer she hadn't realised she was searching for. But it also felt like a reminder, and that frightened her._

"They know when not to interfere. So they don't understand why _I_ did." Elsa's voice dropped to a whisper as the pounding in her head returned. "Because I'm supposed to be one of them."

"But you're not _like_ them, Elsa." Anna's warm hands held Elsa's face still. Except she didn't lean in to press their foreheads together. She didn't say _You're the bridge_ or even _You're my sister_. She looked directly at Elsa, tears still quivering on her eyelashes, and said with the fierceness of a rising sun—

"You're human."

_Something was familiar, like an anchor dropped into the eye of the storm; and as she arrived back on the shores of her home, she realised she was no longer trembling._

* * *

**A/N:** Hurray, you finally reached the end! When I outlined the story, this chapter was not supposed to be this long or that dark and high-strung. I literally titled the last scene "de-stress" because much fluff was needed. As in, the splinter scene was just supposed to be Anna making another offhanded statement but Elsa could not have that.

My knowledge of history, politics and war strategies is dreadful so please forgive any inaccuracies in the dense council scene. I just wanted to explain that things were Not Good and 4000 words ran away from me. I also tried to incorporate as much canon into the Southern Isles using material from the Disney novel 'A Frozen Heart'. Everything else was creative license.

Thank you again for reading and reviewing!


	3. Is Something Coming?

**The Next Unknown**

_3 – Is Something Coming?_

OoOoO

She didn't know she was doing it until Mattias materialised over her shoulder and announced, "Your Highness. We're ready."

"Oh!" The glowing images froze mid-dance and plummeted over the dock's railing. Elsa winced as ice splashed into the fjord she had just thawed. "Excuse me. I'm coming."

There were shadows under Mattias's eyes, but his smile was wide, his chuckle warm. "Didn't mean to startle you, ma'am. Thirty-four years tiptoeing around sleeping Earth Giants—hard habit to break. Funny thing is, I grew up to my father yelling, 'Destin! This house can't take much more of you walking like a troll!'"

"Then perhaps you'll be glad to learn that trolls don't walk. They roll."

"Hey, that's a good one!" When Elsa's polite smile remained unchanged, Mattias peered sceptically at her. "… Are you telling me you've seen _real_ trolls, Your Highness?"

She lifted her shoulder in a small shrug. "Kristoff was adopted and raised in the Valley of the Living Rock; so for all intents and purposes, the trolls are my sister's in-laws. They held another wedding for Kristoff and Anna following their customs; in fact, Anna told me it was their second time. I decided not to ask. Oh—you may be interested to learn that the trolls pride themselves as 'love experts'. Though from what Anna tells me, you and Halima don't appear to need any help in that department."

Mattias turned scarlet. "I-I don't know if we should call it _love_—not that I don't, um, _you know_, but I don't know how I'm doing so far and it's inappropriate for me to presume that we're in some sort of… r-reciprocation without Halima's consent—"

Unable to hold her laughter in any longer, Elsa placed a hand on Mattias's forearm. "Forgive me; I'm only teasing you."

"Oh, thank—"

"Though I assure you, everything I said about the trolls is true."

"… Ah." Mattias shook his head, muttering, "Love expert _trolls_ as the royal in-laws. You know what's really insane? That's not even in the top five of craziest things I've heard in my life."

"That may be a side effect of spending too much time around Anna." Elsa tilted her head towards the guards clustered further down the dock. "Shall we?"

"Of course, Your Highness." Mattias didn't seem to realise he had automatically offered Elsa his arm until she bemusedly raised an eyebrow. His flush returned in full force. "Sorry, definitely too much time around Anna—_Queen_ Anna, I mean… I'm just making it worse, aren't I?"

Anna would have happily put her arm through Mattias's and skipped along the dock. Elsa and their mother used to enter the study to find Anna straddling the king's shoulders while he completed his paperwork, giggling hysterically each time he leaned forward to dip his quill in the inkwell. Yet no matter how willing their father had been to entertain Anna behind closed doors, both girls had understood that in the public eye, he was King of Arendelle first and their Papa second. It meant that they were allowed to hold his gloved hand, but not too tightly in case he needed to greet someone. It meant going to Mama if their legs got tired, because if Papa carried them he was likely to get caught up in another lengthy discussion, and it was bad manners to drool on the king.

There was no questioning their father's love for them. But while Elsa had seen him walk through the castle arm-in-arm with Anna, she knew their father would never have allowed himself to skip alongside her the way Mattias could sometimes be caught doing, his and Anna's deep-bellied laughter rising infectiously. Elsa liked to think Mattias had once made their father laugh like that, too.

She discreetly slipped her arm through his. At first, Mattias seemed frozen in shock. Then he positively beamed down at her. She returned it with a small, shy smile.

"Your magic is exquisite, by the way," he said as they began walking. "I don't know if I've told you that before."

"Thank you. I realise I haven't properly apologised for the way you first encountered my powers."

"My buttocks hold no grudge. Anna was the one recklessly swinging around that ice sword like she couldn't tell one end from the other. But let me tell you—the first time our gutsy queen gate-crashed a training session and showed us what she could do with a real sword?" Mattias chuckled. "I kid you not, I silently thanked your ice for tripping us that day. I would have underestimated her so badly she might have disarmed me and thought '_well, definitely not promoting _this one _to general when we get out of here!_'"

Elsa wasn't at all surprised to hear praise for Anna's swordsmanship, but something else had her canting her head to one side. "'The first time'?"

Mattias blinked, then hastily backpedalled. "All the weapons are blunted, of course! And the boys know better than to knock down the queen… though really, we'd all feel a lot better if she'd let us put her in protective gear…"

"I'm not worried about her," Elsa assured. "No more than usual, in any case. I'm only happy to hear she's still able to find time for her hobbies. If anything, I'm concerned for your men. Anna grew up hitting dummies and sparring with the same three guards, since they were the only ones willing to teach her despite Father allowing it. I can only imagine her enthusiasm now that she has you at her disposal; she wouldn't like your men going easy on her."

Mattias coughed to one side and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "stomped on their feet."

"Thank you, Mattias. For looking after Anna."

"It's my duty and honour to protect the queen, ma'am."

"She is a lot more than the queen to me—and, I suspect, to you as well."

He dipped his head, giving her only a glimpse of a fond smile. "What can I say? She's a special one, your sister."

"I know."

A refreshing breeze swept over the fjord, rustling her hair and dress. Elsa found herself tilting her head back and inhaling deeply. It was unexpectedly pleasant, allowing Mattias to guide her. When she was out with Anna, Elsa could hardly admire their surroundings since her vigilance was often the only thing preventing her sister from walking them straight into a flagpole.

When was the last time she had walked the streets by herself and simply enjoyed Arendelle?

"Missing the Forest?"

Wrenched back to reality, Elsa blinked at Mattias.

"I recognised it in your pretty light show earlier," he added quickly. "And honestly, even after spending half my life trying to get out of that place—I don't blame you. It sure didn't feel like it at the time, but learning to live alongside Yelana's people, separated from the outside world? Protected from terrible things like people jumping into the sea to get away from war in their own homes?" He shook his head. "It was actually a blessing in disguise."

They had reached the end of the boardwalk, where what was left of the six Southern Isles' boats had been towed up the slipway and lined up like unwanted seaweed scraped off the bottom of a fisherman's net.

"And yet the mist did a far better job than I have in protecting them," Elsa murmured.

Mattias followed her gaze to where Ryder stood, chatting to his reindeers as he unhooked them from the sleds that had been used to retrieve the boats. Ryder spotted them and waved energetically.

Waving back, Mattias leaned towards Elsa and whispered, "He has no idea what he just helped us with, does it?"

"No… he and Honeymaren just arrived this morning to trade at the market. He saw me and Sven on our way down, and I didn't get to explain _why_ we were getting the boats off the fjord before he started putting the harnesses back on his reindeers." Elsa sighed. "His help saved us a lot of time and labour, but… I feel awful for getting him involved like this."

"He would have found out eventually, Your Highness. The entire village is talking about it. I can guarantee Honeymaren will have heard by now."

"I know. But Ryder is different."

Mattias grimaced. "Yeah. I know what you mean. The kid still can't get over the fact that he can look up anytime and see a clear sky above him."

"He sings songs about the stars. He made up his own names for the constellations after I pointed them out to him one night."

"That's cute. Does he talk to them, too?"

"Most nights."

"Does he, uh, hear them talk back to him?"

Elsa winced. "Yes."

"Oh, boy. Odin have mercy on us for dragging this innocent lamb into the land of wolves."

"This is my fault. I should have…"

"What should we _not_ have done, Your Highness?" Mattias questioned solemnly. "Not freed the Forest? Not welcomed them into Arendelle and introduced them to our people? Should we have told Ryder and Honeymaren, who grew up without knowing the moon's smile, to stay away from this world they're so curious to discover, because there's a chance it'll break them before it welcomes them?"

"What we should never have done," Elsa said quietly, "was attack them."

There was a pause as their eyes met. Mattias nodded in weary agreement. "Aye." He nodded again, this time towards the broken boats. "And nineteen people should never have died trying to flee their own homes. Yet there are forty others who are not only alive, but fed, clothed, and eating breakfast in a castle. Meanwhile, Ryder, a Northuldra, lent his reindeers to Arendellian soldiers without asking questions, and everything handmade in his sister's stall sells out before lunchtime. It was my generation that put Arendelle on the wrong side of history, Princess Elsa. But yours is the one that's rewriting the future."

With that, Mattias winked at her, stepped away from her towards his men, and boomed out, "Form up, boys! Let's see what we've found."

Elsa watched the guards salute Mattias and thought to herself that he was wrong: Anna would have promoted him to general no matter what had happened in the Forest.

If not for Mattias, they might not have found the refugees' boats. After they had settled everyone in the Great Hall, he had led volunteers back onto the fjord to retrieve the rescue boats so it would not leave them stranded when the ice receded. Then he'd taken Sven and ridden further out to ensure that no one had been left behind. And it was out there, at the point of turning back, that they had come across the Southern Isles boats. They, too, had been inadvertently dredged up by Elsa's ice, but were too far and fragile to retrieve in the dark without returning with more men and sleds.

It wasn't until that morning, when she had stood on the dock watching Sven and Ryder's reindeers grow smaller and smaller in the distance, that Elsa had comprehended just how far the refugees had swum in the icy waters. Yet some part of her still clung to the hope that the night's events had been a dream. The screaming and crying. The sight of shivering people ripping free of warm blankets to throw themselves over the bodies of those too far gone to feel the cold. Her sister clutching her, sinking to her knees as she sobbed uncontrollably.

But then there was the silence only Elsa could hear, reminding her that the night had been very, very real. Reminding her of what she had done.

_You're human._

Something bumped into her back, making her stagger forward.

Elsa looked over her shoulder, already smiling. "Sven. Thank you for your hard work."

He sniffed her face, drawing out soft laughter. "Yes, of course I had Gerda set aside the juiciest-looking carrots for you."

Sven brayed his approval and pushed his head under her hand. Elsa scratched his ears, the tension draining from her shoulders as she momentarily lost herself in the simplicity of making another happy.

"I see a reindeer whisperer in the making."

Elsa looked up to see Ryder winding a rope around one arm as he approached. "Thank you as well, Ryder. Sven would have had to make a lot more trips otherwise. We'll make sure your reindeer are rested and fed at the stables."

"Don't mention it; they love a good run. Just maybe check there aren't any random boats stuck out there next time you freeze the whole fjord, eh?"

"Ryder, about that—"

"Ooh, before I forget—are you planning to come back soon? Honeymaren and I are staying overnight and heading back tomorrow morning if you want to join us."

"I… thank you for thinking of me. But I can't leave right now. There are a lot of—things happening in Arendelle."

Ryder draped the coiled rope on Sven's antlers and leaned against the reindeer. "Oh, cool. Like a festival? I love festivals!"

"Actually—"

"Look, it's Queen Elsa!" an excited voice called from above.

"Shh! We're supposed to call her 'Princess Elsa' now."

"So? She's still the Snow Queen!"

Two children skipped down the stone steps and ran across the dock towards Elsa. She fumbled desperately for their names right up until they skidded to a panting halt in front of her, flashing identical gap-toothed grins. "Arn and Sara? My goodness, you've both grown so much. I almost didn't recognise you."

"We recognised _you_ real easy," boasted Arn, only to be cuffed by his older sister.

"It's 'really easily', you goof!"

Ignoring Sara, Arn grinned up at Elsa. "Can we pretty please go ice-skating on the fjord? We didn't get to skate at all this winter."

"I'm afraid not. I've just thawed the ice since General Mattias and his men have finished working on it."

"Aww, can't you just freeze it again? Pa said the fjord's ice wasn't strong enough to skate on because those big trading ships keep cutting through it, and now it's all melted away and if you're not here, we'll have to wait until next year. Pa says only your ice is safe."

"Her ice isn't just the safest, silly—it's the _strongest_. Remember how she saved Arendelle from that big flood? And how she saved everyone last night, too?"

The dull twinge at the base of Elsa's skull reignited mercilessly. Four fitful hours of sleep with Anna and Kristoff snoring in tandem had not equipped her for this conversation. And yet.

Gathering her dress around her, Elsa crouched down to Arn's level and took Sara's hand. "Not everyone," she corrected gently. "That's why we can't skate on the fjord today. We must pay our respects to those who lost their lives in the water."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder look at the broken boats, then back at her.

"But," Elsa went on, squeezing the children's hands. "Many people are okay. They're safe and warm. Do you know why?"

"Ma said your ice saved them from drowning."

Elsa shook her head. "Do you know what Queen Anna and Prince Kristoff did when they realised someone was in trouble? They jumped into the water themselves. They didn't hesitate to be brave, and everyone responded to that. Brave Arendellians like your father rowed out to help people out of the water long before I arrived. Your mother gave them blankets, clothes, and food. It wasn't me who saved those people; it was all of Arendelle. Everyone helped."

She took Arn by the shoulders and turned him around. "Just like how my friend, Ryder, helped General Mattias get these boats off the fjord. Why don't we thank him for letting us borrow his reindeer?"

_You're welcome_, Ryder mouthed to her. She only had time to return a grateful smile before Arn was on top of him, shouting that he was awesome and strong but probably not strong enough to beat Kristoff, and could he pretty please get a ride on Mr. Sven?

"_Only if you ask nicely and don't pull my antlers_. Also, I could ab-so-lute-ly beat Kristoff in an arm wrestle. I'll show you!"

Sara bit her lip as she watched Ryder toss her giggling brother over one shoulder. Then she turned to Elsa and blurted, "Pa says you like being in the Enchanted Forest more than Arendelle. Is that true?"

She heard Mattias and Ryder asking if she missed the Forest, and when she would return. She heard Anna wondering with forced nonchalance how long she would stay in Arendelle.

What she still couldn't hear were the other spirits.

"Your Highness?" Mattias called. "Can you please come and look at this?"

Her head throbbed.

"Give me a minute, please," Elsa called back. Then she smiled at Sara. "Both Arendelle and the Forest are my homes."

"How can you have two homes?"

"Because it helps me feel whole, and that makes me happy. I can't choose between them, sweetheart."

"But what if you had to?"

"Hey, Sara! Look at me!" Ryder had taught Arn how to lounge backwards on Sven without falling off.

Sara's face lit up and she looked pleadingly at Elsa, all else forgotten. "Go on," Elsa encouraged, rising to her feet. Fearing that she would only see the ground splitting beneath her if she looked down.

"Every time we're out in town," Mattias chuckled when Elsa reached him, "there will always be at least one kid asking Anna if she can make them a toy. So she's always got a stash of paper somewhere, ready to fold them an animal instead. She's not letting you outshine her."

"Anna is very talented at papercraft," she agreed. "Have you discovered something about the boats?"

With that, Mattias's humour evaporated, and Elsa's heart sank.

"Well. The good news is we have a rough idea of how the refugees all ended up overboard at the same time. I'm sure Your Highness knows that the fjord freezes every winter. Most of the ice melted last week, but there are still sheets of it floating in the water. My guess is that they rowed as far as they could until it became impossible to get past what was left."

"Then they tried to cross the ice floes on foot," Elsa murmured, horrified by the desperation that must have driven sixty people to brave the water instead of waiting for the ice to melt further. How many of them had slipped and become trapped underneath? "So we may have found the boats regardless of my ice."

"No, they still sank." Mattias looked like he was nursing a migraine of his own. "It might be easier to show you, ma'am. If you'll follow me."

The men parted for them, bowing to Elsa. She nodded back. Then she was standing in front of a boat bearing the Southern Isles's emblem on its bow.

"Any thoughts?"

The first thing she noticed was that it listed to one side. Arendellian fishing boats sat flat on the ground thanks to their broad, flat-bottomed hulls designed for skimming shallow waters. The Southern Isles' boat, however, had a deep, wedge-shaped hull indicating it had been built to weather choppy, open water. This was hardly unusual, since the Isles sat in the middle of the sea, but Elsa's narrowed gaze continued roving over the vessel, trying to pinpoint why it unsettled her so much.

Then it struck her. "The shape. It's too narrow for a fishing boat."

Mattias nodded. "Not a lot of room for equipment; I reckon hauling up a full net would capsize the whole thing. No fisherman worth his salt would try to make a living in this toothpick of a boat." He glanced sideways at Elsa. "But we do have Arendellian boats similar to this. In the navy."

It dawned on her immediately. "Scout boats. They're built for speed and stealth."

"Very good, Your Highness. These boats look like they came from the Southern Isles' fleet. Of course, I'm not saying these poor folk are spies; they would have done a better job planning their survival if that was the case. You only have to look at them—there are more women and elderly than able-bodied men."

"They could be civilians simply jumping into whatever was available."

"Exactly. But that's not even the million kroner question. Or the bad news." Mattias rounded to the other side and pointed at the wedged-shaped hull. "See this? All the other boats are in the same condition."

Four gaping holes very clearly allowed Elsa to see the boardwalk underneath.

"Damage like this should have sunk them long before they reached Arendelle. So how did they…"

Mattias cleared his throat. "Your Highness. In training, we were taught how to scuttle a boat so it would sink whole, leaving nothing for the enemy to find. It—well, it looks a lot like this."

Hakon Erling's words resounded in her head: _Perhaps that is just what they wanted us to think._

Had they refused to hear the reason behind that soulless statement?

Elsa frowned. "But why would they need to do that? They were practically at our doorstep and we are not their enemy. If they distrusted us so badly, why did they come here at all?"

"I don't think it was _us_ they were trying to hide from, ma'am." Mattias motioned for her to look more closely at the boats.

At first, she didn't know what she was looking at—the only abnormalities that caught her eye were the numerous thin wooden rods protruding from the top and sides of each boat, the ends frayed like they had been snapped off. Then she saw a flash of steel buried in wood.

_Arrowheads._

Elsa's wide-eyed gaze snapped across the deceivingly tranquil fjord as it hit her like a tidal wave.

"They were being chased."

OoOoO

"Oi."

The weirdest part was that he'd only been down there once, and yet somehow the route was already ingrained in his memory. Just another of a hundred things he wished he could forget about last night.

"Hey, you."

He probably shouldn't have swiped three sandwiches. He was famished, yes, but so were the refugees; the maids were running marathons between the kitchen and Great Hall, struggling to put out enough food for forty people who seemed desperate to eat back every meal they had missed over five days at sea. And he really shouldn't be giving his stomach any excuses to churn. Not that he _expected _to hurl. He'd already seen the worst of it, and of course he trusted Elsa's ice to—

"Hey! Big guy with the funny shoes and bad hearing—are you ignoring me or what?"

Kristoff stopped walking and blinked down at his shoes. Then he looked over his shoulder. "Are you talking to me?"

There was a little boy doubled over behind him, hands planted on his knees as he panted like he had been running. He scowled at Kristoff. "Don't see anyone else with shoes like a boat."

And that was all it took.

"At least I _have_ shoes."

The boy blinked.

Kristoff slapped a hand to his face. "Ah, shit—I mean damn—I mean… _argh_. I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me. Please don't cry."

He'd thought the same old taunts couldn't get to him by now. Too scrawny then suddenly too large and intimidating. His nose was too big. He smelled like his best friend the reindeer, because he didn't have any 'proper' friends. He didn't know how to talk to people. He wasn't royal enough. And now even a kid from across the sea thought his shoes looked like boats.

A barefoot little boy who, wearing a shirt three sizes too big and trousers that needed to be belted to his skinny waist, did not deserve to be reminded of _why_ he didn't have clothes that fit him. Or shoes. No matter how badly Kristoff had slept.

Then he heard an incredulous snort. "What is there to cry about? You're as weird as your shoes, mister."

Okay. The boy was not crying. In fact, he didn't even look upset. He was so young—what, eight years old? Nine? Did he even understand what was happening?

But then the boy raised his head and Kristoff saw the unmistakeable mark of age in his dark eyes. He understood everything, alright.

Kristoff scrubbed his hands over his face, and put on a guilty smile. "Okay, tough cookie. How about we try this again? I'm walking down this corridor, and you say…"

"Oi."

"… Right. So I turn around and say: 'Sorry, I didn't realise you were talking to me. What do you need?'" He pointed at the boy. "And now that's your cue to say…"

"Show me around." A pause. Then an impatient sigh. "Please. I'm bored."

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. He had spent the morning helping forty people deal with their shock and grief in forty different ways. He'd comforted and listened and played requests on his lute. He had even spent fifteen minutes teaching a woman how to make his traditional Flemmy Stew, which she'd requested pen and paper to write down. Then she'd turned the page and copied it out again. And again.

Others had stared vacantly and silently into space for hours. Or _talked_ non-stop for hours, which was why, after much discussion, they had eventually caved and bought in Olaf. Kristoff still wasn't sure that Olaf fully comprehended the tragedy of what had happened, but his chipper presence and sleepless companionship seemed enough to convince the refugees that a talking snowman was a sensible counsellor.

No one had raised the issue of boredom. Then again, there didn't seem to be many children who needed entertaining… Kristoff froze.

Because the only other children he had seen were all lying on Elsa's ice.

"Can I ask you something, kid?"

"What?"

"Did you… are you here with anyone? Your parents?"

"No." The boy crossed his arms as if daring Kristoff to pry further.

He didn't. He already knew.

Kristoff couldn't solve the kind of problems that required Anna's or Elsa's attention. He still didn't know all the councillors' names and faces, and could walk halfway across town before computing that 'Your Highness' meant _him_. But he could distribute bedrolls. He knew how to safely raise someone's body temperature. He could make sure all the refugees got a turn in the shower, and had their scrapes and bruises treated. And he knew what it was like to have no one.

Kristoff ripped his last sandwich in two and handed one half to the boy, who accepted it like it was a bomb.

"You're going to miss out on morning tea if you walk with me," Kristoff explained as he stuffed his half in his mouth and started walking. "I'm Kristoff. What about you, kid?"

The boy sniffed the sandwich and made a face. He took a bite anyway. "Oskar," he said around the mouthful. "And stop calling me a kid. I'm almost thirteen."

Kristoff spun back around, baffled. "You," he said incredulously, "are twelve years old?"

"I said, _almost thirteen_."

"That means you're _twelve_."

"I _know_ my own age," Oskar scowled. "My growth spurt is coming, okay?"

"I'm not saying there's a problem with being—" Oskar's glare shot holes in Kristoff's chosen vocabulary. "—_wiry_. Which is another word for strong. It's just… maybe I should have given you the whole sandwich."

Still scowling, Oskar very pointedly shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. At least the kid had spirit.

Slowing his pace so Oskar wouldn't have to jog to keep up with him, Kristoff pointed at a staircase. "We're close to the library. Do you want to go in and have a look?"

"No."

"What do you want to see, then?"

"Where's the queen?"

Good question. "Everywhere," Kristoff answered ruefully. He hadn't seen Anna since breakfast, when he'd told her to tackle her hectic day without worrying about the refugees because he had it covered. She'd stood up as soon as Elsa and Sven left for the docks, and kissed him long and slow and murmured, _Thank you for being incredible. _Which wasn't fair because she'd stolen both the words and his breath from his lips.

"I want to see a reindeer," Oskar said suddenly. "You have one in the castle, don't you?"

Kristoff glanced down in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"I listen when people talk. Unlike you."

And now he wanted to thump the kid again. Kristoff reminded himself that apathetic rudeness might just be Oskar's way of coping with trauma. _But you're not allowed to hit him even if it's not_, Anna's voice lectured in his head.

"His name is Sven, and you'll have to meet him another day. He's out with Elsa right now."

"Who's Elsa?"

"The queen's sister."

"Oh. The ice witch."

"_Don't _call her that." Kristoff's growl startled Oskar enough to stop him in his tracks. He wasn't sorry. "What Elsa has is magic, which she used to _help_ you last night. So before you call her anything at all, how about thanking her first?"

Oskar shifted under Kristoff's glare. "That's just what we call her in the Southern Isles," he muttered.

"Well, you're in Arendelle. And you don't want to know what we call your Prince Hans up here."

"Do you know him?"

"I only saw him once, and that was when my wife punched him overboard."

"Didn't Princess Anna do that? As in, the Princess Anna who's now queen?"

Huh. Apparently Hans's whole kingdom knew every detail of his failure, including his introduction to Anna's right hook. That lifted Kristoff's mood somewhat. "Yep. The one and only."

"_You're_ married to the _queen of Arendelle_?"

Kristoff crossed his arms smugly, hardly offended. "Will that make you think twice before _oi_-ing me again?"

Oskar continued gawking at Kristoff like he belonged under a massive microscope.

"You're going to trip," Kristoff pointed out casually, just as Oskar stumbled. Anna-honed reflexes snatched up the back of the boy's shirt before he could fall. "Told you."

Oskar's shirt was so oversized that Kristoff's catch had practically pulled it over his head, and his muffled response was lost in fabric. "Aren't you supposed to be some sort of barbarian?"

Kristoff yanked Oskar's shirt back down. "_Ice. Harvester_."

"Is it true that you kill wolves with your bare hands and eat their hearts?"

"No! What on earth do they teach you on the Southern Isles? Actually, don't tell me." After hearing what they had to say about him and Elsa, Kristoff couldn't risk finding out what they thought of Anna. It wasn't a good time to break a hand on a wall.

"Do you even know where you're going?"

"How about you give me an idea of where _you_ want to go?"

For the first time, Oskar was completely silent.

Kristoff dropped the whimsical tone. "Alright. What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Anna would definitely let you sit on the throne if that's what you're wondering."

"It's not."

Kristoff put a hand on Oskar's mop of dark hair. Surprisingly, the boy didn't duck away. "Hey. I'm not going to laugh at you. I didn't know where to start when it was my first time in a castle. Sven's stable was already bigger and nicer than anything I'd ever lived in. And don't get me started on the _linen closet—_"

"The dungeons."

Kristoff's mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

Oskar continued staring down at the floor, but his voice was clear. "You told the guards that's where you were going."

Regretting every snappish reply, Kristoff crouched down. Oskar turned his head away. "That's why you snuck out and followed me?"

"I didn't sneak. No one said we couldn't go anywhere. Are we your prisoners?"

"What? Of course not." And yet Kristoff's first thought had been '_how did this kid get past the guards?'_ Oskar's restlessness made sense now. "Oskar. Do you know who we're keeping in the dungeons?"

"I know _what_ is in the dungeons."

"Come on, bud. I know it's hard but there's no need to act tough. If you didn't still think of them as people, you wouldn't be asking to go down to see them."

"If they were still people, you wouldn't be going down there every few hours to check if they were starting to smell," Oskar shot back. Then his entire body stiffened, and he jerked away.

It took every fibre of control in Kristoff's being not to respond. He looked at Oskar and tried desperately to _see_ him. This belligerent stick of a kid who acted like a prickly rose bush when the only thorn he truly had was stuck fast into his young heart.

Anna would have hugged him.

Kristoff lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor and waited.

Minutes passed. Oskar looked like he wanted to sprint away. Kristoff remained silent. Neither of them moved.

Finally, Oskar's murky eyes flickered up. They were dry, yet Kristoff saw a universe of pain swimming within them.

"Did you know someone in the dungeon?"

A small nod.

"Family?"

A shake of a head.

"Friend?"

Hesitation. "My sister."

"Then that's fam… oh." Kristoff licked his lips. "I was adopted, too. So I know what it's like to choose your own family. What's important is that you care about your sister. And she cared about you, right?"

"She shouldn't have." It came out as a whisper. "If she'd cared less, she would still be alive."

What could he say to that?

But Kristoff remembered something Grand Pabbie had told him a long time ago, when he had asked why the trolls would want to keep someone like him.

"Sometimes we get to choose the ones we love, and sometimes we don't. But we never get to choose by whom we are loved."

"I don't know what that means."

Kristoff smiled faintly. "You will one day. After you hit your growth spurt."

"Shut up."

"Hey, don't forget I'm the queen's husband."

"Don't forget that makes you a prince consort. Not a king."

"How do _you_ know that?"

"I told you: I listen." Oskar wiped his nose on the back of his arm. Kristoff plucked out his handkerchief and flicked it at him. Oskar blew so loudly into it that his voice, when he spoke again, sounded particularly small in contrast. Like the child he was supposed to be. "Do they?"

"Hmm?"

"… smell?"

"No, buddy. We're taking good care of them. But it is cold down there. What do you say we find you some shoes before we visit your sister?"

"Normal shoes, right?"

"Watch it, brat."

It came and went like a skittish mouse diving between gutters, but Kristoff saw it.

A smile.

OoOoO

There was no way Anna could single out just one thing she loved about Kristoff, but there was also no way around the fact that his reassuring _size _was a godsend when it came to finding him in a crowded ballroom. Or anywhere, really. Which was why Anna only had to take one step into the Great Hall before veering towards Gerda, who was going around and serving drinks from a trolley.

"Hi, Gerda. Have you seen Kristoff?"

"I believe His Highness is…" Gerda looked like she wanted to drop the pitcher and take Anna's face in her hands. "Pardon me, Your Majesty, but have you seen the bags beneath your eyes? Did you not sleep well?"

"Oh, totally—totally well, I mean. Just not totally _long_." Anna took the pitcher from Gerda and poured a glass of orange juice into one of the glasses, which she handed with a smile to a fuzzy-haired man staring up at her from his bedroll. "Here you go, sir. That'll give the scurvy a good knock. Anyway, Gerda, I know for a fact that you and Kai got, like, six minutes of rest. I don't understand how it doesn't, you know, show on _your_ face."

"I am a maid accustomed to the demands of my work, ma'am. You are a queen—"

"Who also has a lot of work to do. Please stop worrying about me, Gerda. You've seen _Elsa's_ sleep hours; next to her, I'm practically the patron saint of comatose. Hi there! Good morning—oh gosh, it's afternoon already. Would you like a drink? There's juice, tea, coffee, hot cocoa… hmm. Gerda? We do have hot cocoa, right?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Gerda followed with the trolley, pouring hot milk and cocoa powder into a mug. She placed a teaspoon on the saucer and passed it into Anna's waiting hands, all the while making it quite clear that she thought Anna ought to be tucked into bed. "To answer your previous question, ma'am, Prince Kristoff is making another round to check on the… ice."

All of Anna's focus went into not spilling the hot beverage. She hadn't been down to the dungeons yet. Kristoff had made her promise not to, and he'd made it sound like a matter of trusting him to keep an eye on things—which she did, obviously—but it was plain as day that he thought it would upset her. Which it would. But still. She didn't like the thought of him bearing that weight alone. She'd dodged an agricultural report from Councillor Fisker ("The harvest is poor this season; if more refugees are drawn to Arendelle, we may face a grain shortage!") hoping to catch up with him. She wasn't sure where Elsa was, either, but she'd heard that the fjord had been thawed. Knowing Elsa, she'd already hunted down something else to do.

At least she wasn't doing this alone.

"His Highness has been very helpful," Gerda added. "He's earned their trust."

"Of course he has," Anna said fondly. She turned to the next person. "Hello! What can I get for you?"

The woman reached up to clutch Anna's hand. "You're the queen," she said hoarsely.

"That's me. I'm Anna." Patting the woman's hand, Anna shot a discreet but firm look at the nearest guard, who had started forward at the contact. He returned reluctantly to his post. "Did you rest well? I know how uncomfortable it is sleeping on the floor—I did it, too, but I kind of cheated by using my sister and husband as cushions. I hope the food has been to your taste; I asked the cooks to try some southern recipes but, well, sometimes their experimentations literally _go south _if know what I mean—"

Suddenly, there were so many people around her that Anna lost sight of Gerda. A circle formed around her, yet there was no shouting, no fervent pulling at her clothes and hair. Anna found herself staring at a congregation of unfamiliar faces, taking in their haggardness but seeing far more clearly the synchronous movement of their lips as they all murmured the same thing.

_Thank you._

Certain things were expected of a queen, but there was also a far longer list of things she was _not_ supposed to do. Like listening to her subjects' petitions over tea and biscuits instead of from her throne on the dais. Like sneaking out of the castle for a date night. Like kicking off her shoes and swimming towards the sound of screaming.

Like holding back tears in front of people from a kingdom threatening war with hers, and whispering, "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

OoOoO

It took a while for her to notice the hush that fell over the Great Hall.

"So, Emil, your job was making crossbows. That's incredible. That means you're a… sorry, what's the word again?"

"Atilliator, Your Majesty."

"Right—and how do you spell that?"

"With two Ls," a new voice answered.

Anna looked up so quickly she nearly knocked over the inkwell. "Elsa! You found me."

Her sister smiled down at her, bright as sunshine. She knelt down and rubbed a cool thumb across Anna's cheek. "You have ink on your face."

"And probably on my dress, too. I keep poking holes through the parchment." Anna waved the list she was working on. "I'm writing down everyone's names and the jobs they had back at home. It might help us find something for them to do while they're here… is something wrong?"

A shadow had flickered across Elsa's face. "Anna, I need to talk to you."

"Okay. Wait—" Anna put down the quill and paper, and pressed a hand to Elsa's forehead. "Do you have another headache?"

She felt that little crease in Elsa's brow momentarily smooth out with amusement. "I didn't realise you could detect it like a fever."

"Yeah, well, you do have a bad habit of not telling me about those, either, and I don't want you falling from the clock tower again."

"That was _one time_—"

"Too many."

Elsa made a face at her. Anna mimicked it. Her sister's smile returned. "I don't have a fever, Anna."

"But you do have a headache?"

"It's much better than before. I'll be fine."

Anna narrowed her eyes. The thing was, Elsa always _looked_ fine. Like Gerda, she showed no signs of sleep deprivation, and somehow even managed to make sitting on the floor look like a lesson in grace. But Anna also knew that her sister sang in the bath, woke up with bed hair just like hers, and couldn't play charades to save her life yet could unceremoniously stack a house of playing cards without using magic.

Anna picked up the lukewarm tea by her side and pushed it into Elsa's hands. "We ran out of sugar cubes before I could make it the way I like it, so this should taste just right for you."

She watched with satisfaction as Elsa's shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. "Thank you."

"Are the other spirits still mad at you? Can you tell?"

There was a pause as Elsa took a sip of tea in that enviously composed manner of hers. When she did it, it looked strategic; when Anna did it, she just looked thirsty. "Yes, and yes. I'd hoped the Nokk would respond after I unfroze the fjord… but it didn't."

"Have you tried talking to Honeymaren and Ryder? I saw them in the market today. But I guess they'd just tell you to go to Yelana, huh? You know what? You _should _go back and figure this out, Elsa. I've got everything under control here."

"Anna, it's fine—"

"No, it's not! It's important!"

"Yes, but we have a bigger problem. We need to—" Elsa broke off.

Puzzled, Anna looked up.

The refugees had formed another circle around them. But this time, they were all staring at Elsa.

Anna's head snapped back, and she saw Elsa's wide eyes and the doors closing within them; the way she drew her hands to her chest, no doubt thinking of another time she had frozen the fjord in front of another crowd—

Anna shot to her feet—this time, she really did knock over the inkwell. But she didn't look down. She reached behind her, and when she felt Elsa take her hand, she yanked her sister up beside her.

"Anna," Elsa gasped, stumbling into her. "What are you—"

"Everyone, this is Elsa. My sister. She's…" God, how could she _summarise_ her magical sister, the fifth spirit and former queen, creator of snowmen and houses of cards alike? "She's just Elsa," Anna announced resolutely.

Biting her lip, Elsa gazed out at the refugees. Then she dipped her head and said softly, "I'm very sorry for your losses."

There was a long silence.

Emil the atilliator stepped forward. "Your Majesty, Your Highness. Please… stop apologising for the problems caused by our own kingdom. None of us would be here without you." He glanced hesitantly at Elsa. "Both of you."

And there was a shift. Apprehensive expressions cracked open into tentative smiles. More murmurs of blessings and _thank you._ But the most gratitude radiated from Elsa herself. Anna remembered the morning after summer had been restored, when she'd bounced into Elsa's room stoked for the queen's first public address—only to find her sister huddled on the floor, her dress pooled around her as she anxiously watched snow fall from the ceiling. _What if they hate me, Anna?_

Now, Anna squeezed Elsa's hand and leaned in to whisper, "Was this the 'big problem' you were talking about?"

Elsa's troubled expression returned.

"That's a no," Anna sighed.

Elsa regarded her, then the refugees. And appeared to make up her mind. "Actually," she said, "I'd like to speak to everyone."

She cast Anna a look that seemed to ask _May I?_ Which Anna didn't understand why she kept doing in front of other people, because, sure, Anna was the queen now but Elsa was still her big sister and it wasn't like _no_ existed between them.

But when Elsa turned back to face the refugees, she wasn't just Elsa anymore. Queen or not, there was no mistake about the gravity of what she planned to say next.

She clasped her hands together and raised her voice. "This morning, we retrieved your boats from the fjord."

Anna's eyebrows shot up. That was it? She already knew that.

And yet there was another shift in the air. The refugees shuffled on the spot and glanced at each other.

Elsa pursed her lips. "Your reactions tell me you were hoping we wouldn't find them. Does that mean you were the ones who purposefully sank them?"

Anna wasn't sure she'd heard properly. "Wait, what?"

Elsa gave her an apologetic look and opened her mouth to explain. But one of the women answered, "Yes, Your Highness. We did it."

"Ragna!" her neighbour hissed.

_Ragna the cook_, Anna recalled from her list.

"We owe them the truth, Osmund." _Osmund the blacksmith._ "The queen and princess have shown us nothing but kindness."

"I know that—but what _truth_ is there left to tell?"

Multiple voices began to rise. The guards at the corners of the room snapped to attention.

"Whoa—what's going on here?" came a familiar voice from the back of the crowd.

Anna could no longer count on one hand the number of times she'd wanted to cry in relief at the sight of that sweet, rugged face. "Kristoff!"

She wasn't the only one glad to see him. The hall immediately quietened as the refugees settled down, their heads downcast like children caught squabbling in front of a parent. Anna and Elsa shared a perplexed look—it seemed Kristoff had worked his own kind of magic on them.

And now he was looking questioningly at Anna, like he hoped _she_ also had a trick to pull out of her sleeve.

Her mind spun. "Okay, let's just… talk this through. I don't understand; why did you get rid of the boats when you were so close to Arendelle? The water was… it's dangerous." She didn't think they needed that reminder.

"The boats were blocked by floating ice," Emil said. "It would have taken days for the ice to melt enough for us to pass. Swimming was inevitable."

"But you didn't have to sink the boats. That would have taken time. Energy. Why didn't you just leave them there?"

No one answered. Not even Emil or Ragna.

"Anna," Elsa said quietly. "We found arrows stuck into all the boats."

"_Arrows_?"

"_Oh_. That explains…" Kristoff grimaced as he met Anna's disoriented gaze. "Last night, in the dungeons, I noticed not everyone looked like they'd… drowned. I couldn't be sure because the water had washed away most of the blood, but…"

"They were attacked." Anna held onto Elsa's arm as she looked at the refugees in horror. "_You_ were attacked."

"The king ordered archers to shoot any unauthorised boats leaving the Isles," murmured Ragna.

"We're so sorry," Elsa said. "I hope you'll forgive my insensitivity, but please, we need more answers. You wouldn't have gone to the effort of sinking the boats if you didn't believe there was someone on your trail. Someone to hide from. We need to know if there are any ships, King Caleb's or otherwise, that could track you here. To Arendelle."

_To Arendelle._

It hit Anna then, exactly how naive she'd been. She had gotten this far by telling herself that the next right thing could only truly be the next right thing if it was the best for _everyone_. But she saw now that it was nothing more than a child's fantasy written in snow, destined to be buried. Sometimes there was not enough room for everyone on a single life raft. Just like the balance between nature and humans, there was a balance to everything else. Except there was no bridge between humans. Where there was give, there would be take.

Caleb was hellbent on taking. But Anna was the one who had done too much giving, without first asking questions.

She let go of Elsa's hand, and stepped forward. She didn't look at Kristoff. She only had eyes for the people from the Southern Isles, who stared uneasily back at her because they had only ever known one type of ruler.

"Are you worried that we will make you leave? It would make sense, wouldn't it? If you're actually fugitives, then sheltering you will only come back to bite us. That's why you destroyed the boats even though it wouldn't take much for trackers to figure out you had come to Arendelle. You hoped they would think you had all drowned—or, if they did come here, you hoped we would protect you. You knew the danger you were bringing to our shores, and you chose to come anyway."

They all bowed their heads.

"Except you didn't get to choose when your kingdom went to war with itself. _I_ chose to help you. When I learned you had come from the Southern Isles, _I_ chose to open our gates to you anyway." Anna paused to take a breath and square her shoulders. "And it's strange, but no matter what happens, or who comes looking for you, I don't think I'll ever regret saving you. I can't blame you for that, because you didn't have a choice. But _I _did, and if I made the wrong one—if my mistake endangered my kingdom—then I hope you'll choose to help me fix it. We're in this together."

Anna reached out and took Ragna's hand. She looked at Emil. "Please," she implored, "don't be afraid. Just be honest. Tell me: is something coming?"

For a long while, no one seemed to breathe.

Then Ragna swallowed. "Queen Anna, the truth is—"

"Caleb sent two ships after us."

Every head turned towards the new voice. It came from Kristoff's direction, but he was also staring down in astonishment. Anna couldn't see who stood next to him until murmurs travelled through the crowd, and the refugees parted to reveal a young boy.

"Oh," Anna breathed.

He wasn't drenched and shivering anymore. Gone was the ragged tunic, replaced by a bright Arendellian outfit that, unlike the other refugees' clothes, actually seemed to fit him. His boots gave his footsteps a solid presence as he left Kristoff's side. As he came closer to her, Anna saw that beneath the bedraggled dark hair, his eyes were no longer glassy and vacant. Far from it.

"Hello again," she said.

"Two ships," the boy repeated in his peculiarly serious tone.

She resisted the urge to crouch down for him. "Are you sure, buddy? Even if Caleb didn't want anyone to leave, that's a lot of firepower to send after a group of civilians in the middle of a coup."

He shrugged. "We're not all civilians."

Anna blinked, letting it sink in.

Then she turned around and snatched up the list she had left on the floor, scanning her scrawled handwriting. The words leapt out at her—how had she missed it?

"Elsa?"

"Yes?"

"Atilliator, blacksmith, cook, porter, falconer, constable, steward. Doesn't that sound like…"

"Household staff positions," Elsa murmured, "for a highly militarised noble family."

They both looked up at the boy. He didn't seem daunted.

"What happened to those two ships?" Elsa questioned. "You couldn't have outrun them."

"We got a head start, and they didn't use the cannons. Caleb still wanted to get us back alive, but he took too long. My father's fleet ambushed his so we could get away."

"Your father's fleet?" Elsa repeated.

Anna gazed at the boy standing in front of her. He was even smaller than she'd initially thought, and it was still strange to hear so many words coming out of his lips, which were no longer purple with cold. But all she had to do was close her eyes, and she'd be back in the icy water with him, his thin arm wrapped around her neck as she told him, _We'll do it together. Okay?_

For the second time, she asked him, "What's your name?"

And this time, the boy replied, "Oskar Westergaard."

* * *

**A/N:** I wish I could spend another 8000 words thanking you for reading these incurably long chapters and leaving such lovely reviews! I do have a rough plot outline but this story continues to keep surprising me and it wouldn't be half as fun without you guys.

Arn and Sara are side characters from the Disney Frozen comic 'The Hero Within'. My headcanon of Elsa having time to dabble in impractical skills like building a house of cards comes from chapter 12 of The Sky Is Awake.


	4. A Question of Whether

**The Next Unknown**

_4 – A Question of Whether_

OoOoO

They returned after dinner and took him into the messiest room he had seen in his life.

There were books and piles of paper and _stuff_ lying absolutely everywhere. Oskar actually halted in the doorway, unable to fathom how anyone could walk through that. Then the Queen of Arendelle demonstrated, and after seeing her clip nearly every precariously balanced stack on her way to the desk, that question was swiftly replaced by: _how was everything still upright?_

In contrast, the queen's sister practically glided through the labyrinth—and she was the one with the sinuous dress. Ice powers or not, Oskar decided he was safer following in her wake.

The queen hopped onto one leg to slip off her shoes; when she lost her balance, her sister steadied her without breaking stride as she brushed past. The barefoot queen smiled. Then she seemed to remember Oskar, standing incongruously in the middle of her office, and the corners of her lips tugged back down.

She leaned back on the desk and crossed her arms rather imperiously. "Sit."

Oskar made a point of looking around. The only seat he saw was buried under books. "Where_,_ Your Majesty?"

Paper rustled as a light gust blew into the room—and a chair materialised behind him. It was unexpectedly ornate, made of the same sparkling ice that had encased the fjord. Oskar never thought that he'd be able to recognise _ice_.

He tried to keep the battle between awe and fear under wraps as he turned to the Ice Witch, who was rummaging through the desk's drawers. What had Kristoff said about her again? _Thanking her?_

Oskar started when her cool blue eyes flickered to his.

"It's just a chair; nothing more," she said in a light voice that was nothing like the authoritative one he'd heard her use in the Great Hall. Like her sister's, there was a musical ring to it.

_Rule three: show no weakness._

Oskar planted himself down. He shifted to confirm that she had been telling the truth; the ice didn't freeze him to the chair. He could leap up and run if needed. Very easily, too, since the chair was low enough that his feet could actually touch the floor. Was that a coincidence?

"Are you comfortable?"

Not a coincidence.

Oskar nodded. Then, after a pause, muttered, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"_Elsa_," the queen hissed over her shoulder. "What happened to the plan?"

"Sorry. I'll be quiet." Finding a fresh sheet of parchment, the princess picked up a quill and started writing.

The queen's narrowed eyes returned to Oskar. "So," she began dramatically.

He sneezed.

"Bless you—" the queen and princess said, but Oskar wasn't done. He sneezed again. And a third time. Then half of a fourth.

When he opened his watery eyes, the queen's concerned face was in front of his. The comically sinister expression was gone.

"Are you okay? Did you catch a cold?" Her hand touched his forehead. Oskar didn't have the time or sense to flinch. "Doesn't feel like you have a fever, at least. Elsa, can you pass me the blanket on the back of the chair?"

Before Oskar registered what was happening, he was bundled up in a thick cable-knit blanket the colour of spring grass, unable to see anything but the top of the Queen of Arendelle's braided head as she knelt and tucked the blanket around his lap.

"What are you doing?"

"Keeping the feet warm is super important when you're sick. Just trust me on this. I'm a veteran."

_Rule two: trust no one._

"No," he said impatiently. "_What_ are you doing?" _To me. For me._

"I literally just said—" She stopped and looked up at him. She blinked. Then she covered her face and groaned. "Darn it! This isn't working, Elsa! He's just a _kid_. And he looks nothing like Hans."

"I can see that," her sister replied without looking up.

"I am _not_ just a kid," Oskar scowled. "And that's because Hans isn't my father."

"Of course he's not; I figured that out myself. But it would be easier for me to be mean to you if you had, I don't know—sideburns, or something."

"If I did, would I already be in a cell?"

The queen stared at him. Behind her, her sister's head also came up. Oskar glowered at both of them.

Then their identical eyes did the same bewildering thing: they softened.

"Are you sure you're twelve, buddy?" the queen asked gently.

_Rule one: Westergaards are lions, not mice._

"Are you sure you're the queen?" Oskar shot back.

There. He'd drawn first blood. He'd shown her the danger of underestimating him.

So why in the world was she laughing? "Are you sure you're a prince of the Southern Isles?"

Oskar clenched his jaw and raised his chin. "Yes."

"Just checking. You're awfully honest for one." Still grinning, the queen stood and reached over his head.

He absolutely did not flinch.

She took down a box of chocolates that had apparently been resting atop a book stack. She offered it to him, and rolled her eyes when he refused. "It's not poisoned or anything. Look." She popped one into her mouth. Then another.

"I'm not paranoid. I just don't like chocolate."

"What? Did you hear that, Elsa? Such heresy. Oh, do you want the last salted caramel?"

Oskar didn't realise when exactly he had relaxed into his chair. The ice wasn't as noticeable anymore. Between the blanket that smelled like summer, and the clothes Kristoff had asked a maid to purchase when they hadn't been able to find anything in his size, Oskar was warmer than he'd felt in a long time.

No. He wasn't going to break rule two.

The queen lined up thirteen chocolates on her desk and clapped her hands together. "So—if this end is Caleb, and that end is Hans, which one is your father, Oskar?"

"You've got to be kidding me."

She grinned back and made an encouraging flourish at the chocolates.

Sighing, Oskar got up and walked over to the desk, the blanket trailing after him. He jabbed a finger at the fifth chocolate. This was pointless. This was childish. This was—

He looked up in time to catch the queen casting a relieved glance at her sister.

This was a trap.

He frowned. "You already knew who my father was."

Her startled eyes snapped back to him. Then dropped guiltily. "Um… we guessed. Well, _I _guessed. Elsa hypothesised."

And suddenly Oskar was livid—but not at the Queen of Arendelle or even her watchful, unreadable Snow Queen of a sister. He was a fool. A fool for thinking that he could play this game better than someone who would leap into the freezing water for a stranger; who had stood up in front of his people with that earnest face of hers and said, _I don't think I'll ever regret saving you_.

For thinking that someone like her didn't have a rule two of her own.

"You were testing to see if I would lie."

OoOoO

It was only because Anna was turned away from her that Elsa saw her sister's hands clench behind her back. What she couldn't see was Anna's face, and if she was being truthful, Elsa was glad. She didn't want to know.

Because she knew that what Anna had actually wanted to do was invite Oskar Westergaard to dinner so she could make sure he ate his greens while she fussed over cutting up his steak for him. Anna would have coaxed him to talk over dessert instead of marching him into the study with interrogation plans Elsa had known neither of them would have the heart to carry out. Anna would still have tried to cheer him up with chocolates, but she wouldn't have thought to ask such a question, or to be pleased when Oskar's answer matched what she and Elsa had previously discussed. Anna never would have thought to suspect a twelve year old boy of having ulterior motives.

The worst part was that Elsa could tell Anna hadn't meant to test him at all. Yet, instead of clearing the misunderstanding, Elsa watched her little sister—the queen—remain silent. She saw Anna struggling to _conceal, don't feel,_ and wondered how much of it was her fault.

"Were you planning to lock me up if I lied?" Oskar's voice was devoid of emotion.

_Twelve years old,_ Elsa reminded herself. He was twelve years old. But he was also a Westergaard, and though it didn't show in his appearance, it certainly did in his suspicion. This was a child who had been attacked by his own uncle, barely survived five days at sea, and had come expecting chains around his wrists and ankles. To him, sympathy was an insult, and empathy nothing more than a ruse.

Elsa saw Anna's arms rise as if to hug him, only to drop back to her side. "You're not going to be locked up no matter what you choose to say, Oskar. But we appreciate you telling us the truth."

"How can you be so sure that I did?" he snapped. "Eleven of King Johan's thirteen sons are married. I could be any of his thirty-one grandchildren."

Anna did a double-take. "_Thirty-one_?"

"We recalled you mentioning your father had a fleet," Elsa said, replacing the quill. "Very few soldiers would be willing to risk their lives and families revolting against their rightful king. It would take an exceptional leader to rally enough men to challenge Caleb." She turned the paper around and slid it across the desk. "Someone like Prince Gregory, the Spear of the Southern Isles."

Both Anna and Oskar stared down at the family tree Elsa had drawn. Thirteen names were evenly spaced at the bottom of the sheet.

"Whoa," Anna said. "This is a lot more detailed than what you were telling me. How do you just know all their names off the top of your head?"

For the same reason Anna was able to knit a scarf in a day, fold practically anything out of paper, and wield a sword skilfully enough to impress General Mattias.

What Elsa actually said, though, was: "I did my research after my sister nearly married one of them."

"Oh my God," Anna groaned. "Do you have to remind me every time?"

Elsa smiled and picked out another chocolate.

"You could have done a lot worse than Hans," Oskar said offhandedly.

"That's a silver lining, isn't it? Imagine if Crown Prince Caleb had come to Elsa's coronation. Actually, maybe that would've worked out better; my evil radar would have gone off and warned me to stay away. At least Hans didn't successfully murder anyone."

"Wait. You think _Caleb_ killed the king?"

Elsa looked at Oskar in surprise. "Did he not?"

"Then who did?" Anna's gaze flicked down the diagram and widened in dread as it considered the thirteenth name. And Elsa found that she didn't want to hear Oskar say _that _name, either, because despite his abhorring plots, Anna had sincerely loved Hans, at least for a few hours. He had come close enough to leave scars on her heart. Yet neither of them wanted to find out that he had finally gone too far.

"The twins," Oskar answered.

"… Who?" Anna asked blankly.

He jerked his head at the family tree. "Rudi and Runo. You got them the wrong way around, by the way; Runo is older. And uglier. They caused some big trouble in Corona and nearly blew our alliance with them. The king was furious because this wasn't like Hans screwing up in Arendelle; the Isles can't afford to lose Corona. So the twins were exiled. Left to be punished as Corona saw fit."

"The king disowned them? Just like that? But they were family."

"So?" Oskar didn't seem to understand Anna's shock. He didn't understand that she had never given up on anyone, and that the nonchalant cruelty of his world was like a comet colliding into hers. "Anyway, the twins broke out of Corona's prison, snuck back in the middle of the night, and the next morning, Caleb was king of the Southern Isles."

Anna was silent.

"What else can you tell us about what's happening in the Southern Isles?" Elsa asked.

"Oh, _now_ you trust me, do you?"

She glanced at Anna's pale face. "I trust you because my sister does."

"No, she doesn't," Oskar scoffed. "She didn't."

"She wasn't sure if you would tell the truth; that is different to not trusting _you_. You already pointed out that King Johan had many grandchildren. Most of them haven't been seen or documented outside of the Southern Isles; anyone could claim to be one of them." Oskar opened his mouth, but Elsa went on. "We wouldn't be having this conversation at all if Anna hadn't believed you from the beginning. She took you for your word when you told us you were running from Caleb. She trusted that you are who you claim to be, and so she also trusted what her experiences with members of your family have taught her. She rightfully suspected you, as you understandably suspected us.

"We're now comfortable trusting that you have nothing to gain from deceiving us." Elsa nudged the inkwell and quill towards Oskar. "But I also think that you wouldn't have revealed your identity so willingly, Prince Oskar of the Southern Isles, if _you_ did not on some level trust Anna, too."

At this, Anna lifted her head.

Oskar blustered, "If you think I owe her anything just because she saved me—"

"So long as you don't blame me for not being able to save Sofia, I promise you don't owe me a thing, little guy."

Watching them, Elsa felt like she was no longer in the room. Anna had told her about finding Oskar in the fjord—about why he had barely been able to stay afloat. Then, when Kristoff shared that Oskar seemed to believe his adopted sister had died because of him, Anna had teared up so badly that Elsa and Kristoff had nearly cracked their heads together in their rush to comfort her.

Oskar did not know about these moments. But Elsa understood his confusion—with Anna, it was impossible to pretend that she didn't care. And when she gave him a small, helpless smile, he blinked as if snapping from a trance.

He jerked away from her. Then he snatched up the quill, muttering, "Stop calling me 'little'."

Elsa joined Anna on the other side of the desk as Oskar started scribbling over the diagram.

"The fighting started because the twins were stupid enough to brag about killing the king. Obviously, the sentence is death. But Caleb let Rudi and Runo get away unpunished, and even reinstated their titles. He's been pressuring King Johan to step down for years, see, so to him it was like the twins had done him a favour."

Oskar crossed out the second name on the list. "Still, things wouldn't be this bad if Aksel hadn't challenged Caleb to a duel for the throne. He lost and yielded. Caleb killed him anyway."

"_What?_" Anna clutched Elsa's arm. "But he yielded!"

"Caleb thought he was a threat. Or maybe he just wanted to make an example out of him. Aksel wasn't smart enough to hide his family before the duel, so Caleb had them brought in before he—"

"Thank you, Oskar," Elsa cut in, her mouth dry. She took Anna's hand and stepped in front of her. "We understand the… situation."

Oskar glanced curiously behind her. Elsa shifted so he wouldn't be able to see Anna's face buried between her shoulder blades, or the way she gripped Elsa's hand so tightly it hurt.

"Whatever. Rudi and Runo obviously sided with Caleb. Hendrick, too; he's always thought of Caleb as some sort of shining knight. Lars is third oldest and has never been interested in anything but books. When he saw what happened to Aksel, he fled the country with his wife and children. So did Franz and Niklas, but they both married princesses from Blavenia so word on the street is that the Blavenian king has plans to take down Caleb and put one of them on the throne. Jurgen, Sigurd and Erik left the Isles as soon as they got married and haven't been back in years—but who knows what they're cooking up in Zaria and Kongsberg now that King Johan is gone."

The pieces clicked together in Elsa's mind. She had wondered why the refugees had specifically travelled to Arendelle when there were shorter and safer routes to other nations. With the feuding princes scattered across their closest neighbours, the Southern Isles faced more potential enemies than allies. In contrast, Arendelle looked like a safe haven—and, to Caleb, exploitable.

"What about Hans?" Anna asked hesitantly.

Oskar shrugged. "He's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean, _gone?"_ Anna's eyes darted between Hans' name and the messy marks that had erased Aksel's.

"When I say gone, I mean _gone_. Geez. No one knows where he is. King Johan demoted him for the embarrassment in Arendelle. He's been polishing horse shoes and shovelling manure these last few years. As soon as we heard the king was dead, Hans vanished. It's not like he could've cut a better deal with Caleb in charge."

"So he's okay." Anna sounded relieved.

"Could be dead. Could be halfway to India. Who knows. Who cares?" Oskar tossed the quill down, leaving spatters of black across the names of his twelve uncles.

"And your father?" Elsa prompted. "Tell us about Prince Gregory."

Shrugging, he started stacking the chocolates into a tower. "What is there to tell? He's the best admiral in the navy. Never lost a battle on the water. That's why they call him the Spear; he can find any ship's weakness and sink it with a single cannon shot."

"Why were you not with him when everything started?"

"He was away on a military exercise. The first thing Caleb did was send men to pick me up. Smartest move he's made since becoming king. You don't go up against Prince Gregory without insurance."

"He's your father, Oskar," Anna noted softly. "You can call him that. We're not going to hold it against you."

"We don't have that kind of relationship."

"Well, I'm sure we'll get to know each other—"

"Prince Gregory and I. We don't have that kind of relationship."

"Oh." Anna looked thrown by yet another differing worldview on something she had taken for granted.

Elsa realised she had, too. Despite all the times she had withdrawn from her parents, she had not once questioned the nature of their love for her and Anna.

"But now you're here," Anna said awkwardly. "Your father came back for you."

Oskar frowned. "Yeah. He did."

"So why didn't you join him? Why come here instead?"

"It was too dangerous."

"Dangerous? You nearly died trying to reach Arendelle. How is that not—"

"It's already started." Oskar pulled the blanket Anna had given him tighter around his shoulders. "Caleb was executing one staff member a day. He didn't want to give Prince Gregory time to gather more soldiers. It worked; Prince Gregory distracted Caleb so we could get away, and then he launched a siege to buy more time."

He paused, then repeated: "It's already started."

Elsa and Anna turned to each other as they registered what Oskar had said. What it meant.

Councillor Belland's advice had been logical: Caleb's threats were hollow while he was distracted by the coup. As long as Prince Gregory's rebellion stood, Arendelle was safe. Sieges could last years.

Or they could be shattered in weeks.

"Oskar?" Anna said slowly. "What are your father's chances of winning?"

"He's never lost. As long as he has the men, he'll find a way."

"… Do _you_ think he has enough men?"

Oskar carefully stacked the last chocolate, and stepped back. The three of them viewed his handiwork in silence. The tower stood flimsy and narrow, thirteen brown blocks high. Each piece was even and balanced. Each had its own place.

Then Oskar stamped one boot hard on the floor, and everything came crashing down.

OoOoO

"He might have caught a cold, so please keep an eye on him and send for the physician if he starts running a temperature. Oh, and he can keep this blanket; I can knit another one in no time. Maybe we should ask the kitchen to make some chicken soup for him—for everyone, actually. Oskar? Do you like chicken soup?"

He shrugged and crawled into his bedroll, knowing she would keep talking anyway.

"Chicken soup tomorrow, then," she told the maid, who bowed and went to help another person set up their bedroll.

It was quiet in the Great Hall. Most people had already turned in for the night, the dazzle of the brilliant chandeliers replaced by the mild glow of wall sconces. Good—he didn't want to talk to anyone. Didn't want them asking if he knew what he was doing because Westergaards were lions and the answer couldn't be _no._

"Do you want an extra pillow? Something to hug?"

Why was she still here?

"I don't need you to tuck me in," he muttered.

She did it anyway.

"You're not going to stay and watch me sleep, are you?"

"Hmm? Nah. Just felt like sitting down for a bit. I've been up all day. Do you mind?"

"… You're the queen. Do whatever you want." He rolled onto his side, facing away from her.

She started humming quietly. It wasn't bad. But it wasn't good, either, because Sofia used to hum and sometimes sing when she thought no one could hear her.

"Oi."

"Rude."

"Fine. _Your Majesty_."

"That's not my name," she sang.

"I'm not going to call you by your name."

"Why not, Oskar?"

"We're not friends."

"Can't we be?"

Then he was on his back again, frowning up at her. "Why would someone like you want to be friends with someone like me?"

She cocked her head to one side. "What's wrong with that?"

"I'm twelve, and I can see everything wrong with that."

"Oh? Is someone proud to be a kid now?"

Huffing, he rolled back over. She fixed the blanket around him. He wanted to yell into the pillow.

"You're doing this all wrong, you know."

"Is there a scientifically proven way to tuck someone in?"

"I meant being queen."

Soft laughter. Did nothing upset this ludicrous person? No, that wasn't right. She'd hidden behind her sister when he had described Caleb killing Aksel. And when she had seen Sofia's body, she'd looked ready to cry on his behalf.

It hit him that she got upset for others, but not herself.

"Probably," she admitted breezily. "I've heard that one before."

"Then stop," he told her.

"Good idea. I'll abdicate to Olaf first thing tomorrow. You've met Olaf, haven't you?"

"Stop being _nice_."

"In general? Or just to you?"

He didn't say anything.

"Hey," she said lightly. "Being horrible to you wouldn't make me feel any better. Or make me a better queen. Sure, there's a lot of bad news hanging over our heads right now… but none of this is your fault, Oskar. And you have every right to be frustrated and angry. You understand that, don't you?"

She had no idea.

"Go away, Anna."

A strangled sound. Had he finally agitated her?

But when he cracked an eye open, he saw that she'd stuffed a fist into her mouth and was biting back giggles.

"What?" he demanded, turning towards her for the umpteenth time.

She waved a hand until she had enough breath to say, "It's just… my sister used to say that to me all the time. We didn't see each other much, so I'd keep bugging her until she gave up and talked to me, even if it was just to tell me to go away. And now look at us. You've started down a slippery slope, pal."

"I'm not going to become your sister," he said flatly. "Or your friend."

"That's okay; baby steps. I'm very patient. Depending on who you ask."

There was no way he was going to sleep until she left. Except she kept _talking_ and at some point she started stroking his hair and he wanted to push her away and tell her he wasn't falling for any of it… but then the silence would invite burning ships to sail across the black of his eyelids only to sink, and sink, and sink, and no matter how hard he swam, and swam, and swam, he still wouldn't be able to reach Sofia.

The last thing he remembered before sleep tided over was her soft voice saying, "You're okay, Oskar. You're okay."

OoOoO

There was no point pretending she didn't miss this when there was nostalgia in every tiptoed step towards the study; in peeking inside to see Elsa still working at the desk, and mentally debating whether the inevitable snowball to the face was worth the satisfaction of making her unflappable sister shriek in surprise.

Snowball all the way.

"I can see you."

_Drats._ "No you can't. There's stuff everywhere."

"Which are usually inanimate unless someone bumps into them."

Pouting, Anna stood up—or she planned to, anyway. What she hadn't planned on was tripping on the bottom of her dress and losing a shoe and flinching as the floor rose to meet her—

She smacked into a pile of snow.

For a moment, she just closed her eyes and let the chill sink in. Let _herself_ sink into it because the feeling of soft, familiar snow on her skin pushed back ghostly memories of huddling in a cavern with damp hair and clothes, and still feeling too warm.

"Anna?"

She looked up. There was her sister, half-risen from her seat in concern.

Anna pulled herself up and shucked off her remaining shoe while she was at it. "That was a trust fall."

Shaking her head, Elsa sat back down. "In the sense that I trusted you would fall at some point?"

Reaching the desk, Anna leaned over the back of the chair and hugged her sister from behind. "It's not my fault gravity pulls me down."

Elsa put down the quill and studied her. This, too, was nostalgic because Anna had learned that she could spend hours unsuccessfully trying to drag her overworked sister to bed, but as soon as Elsa sensed that Anna _needed_ _her_, suddenly no state matter was urgent enough.

Neither of them spoke. Then Elsa reached up and drew Anna's right hand up to her lips. And Anna couldn't help smiling into her sister's hair, because even this new thing felt nostalgic. It had only started after her coronation. Anna had shed the heavy dress and crown and had been laughing at the sight of Kristoff, Sven and Olaf taking turns to pay their extravagant respects to her dishevelled self. She'd thought Sven had done the best job. But then Elsa had stepped forward.

Unlike the boys, she hadn't greeted her with _Your Majesty_. She'd dipped into a perfect curtsey, glanced up long enough for Anna to see through her own blurry vision that Elsa's eyes were also shining with tears, and smiled. _My queen._ And then she'd kissed Anna's hand, just like their mother used to do every night.

"Is everything okay?"

Anna blinked back to the present and felt the weight of reality settle on her shoulders. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Of course."

"Then yes. Everything is more than okay." Anna squeezed a little tighter. Then she gave in to the exhaustion and draped over Elsa, who patted her head. "Oskar's in bed, by the way."

"Is he alright?"

"Yeah. I mean, as alright as a twelve year old who's convinced his father is going to die can be. You can tell he thinks it's his fault. But I got him to sleep in the end." Anna flashed a smile. "I'm pretty good at telling people when something isn't their fault. Aren't I, sis?"

"Yes, you are," Elsa said wryly. "What about Kristoff? Has he turned in yet?"

Anna shook her head. She'd run into him on her way to the study, and they'd taken ten minutes to catch up in an alcove over a rhubarb pie he'd gotten from the kitchen. Then they'd spent another ten minutes catching up in a different kind of language that had resulted in Anna yanking out her hairpins and letting her hair down because Kristoff's hands had completely murdered her bun.

Before they had gone their separate ways again, Kristoff had asked, _Are you sure you're okay?_ She'd said _Yes_, obviously, but it must not have sounded convincing enough because he'd kissed the top of her head and said, _Tell me when you're ready_.

All Anna knew was that she was ready for everything to go back to normal. But she also knew when to recognise that was impossible.

"He's down in the dungeons again. Some of the refugees couldn't sleep without making sure their loved ones are… you know—okay. Most of them are just civilians. Families."

Elsa nodded. "Is something else bothering you?"

God, how did everyone around her keep doing that?

"I was just thinking… your magic can give life, right? Like Olaf and Marshmallow and the Snowgies. So does it affect you in any way? That there's a… well… an _absence_ of life lying on your ice in the dungeons? Does it…"

She didn't have to finish the question. Anna completely understood the telepathy now, because it only took one look for her to know_._

"Oh, _Elsa_."

"It's fine," Elsa said quickly. "It just feels… heavier. I can manage it."

Of course she could. Elsa could manage anything. Anna knew that. And she knew that if she let her, Elsa would spend the rest of the night fulfilling duties no longer required of her, relentlessly poring over maps and missives to scrape together some semblance of strategy in a war she had no control over.

"Anna?" Elsa was doing that doleful, too-guilty-to-meet-her-eyes thing that inexplicably made Anna feel like the older one. "Are you angry with me?"

"No."

"… You're angry."

Yes, she was. Anna was furious with herself. Sure, Elsa no longer kept secrets from her—but things like headaches and the discomfort of death on her consciousness weren't exactly secrets, were they? They were just instances of Elsa dealing with things the way she always had: alone. So how on earth could Anna still be gullible enough to _believe_ her sister when she said she was okay?

She clamped down on Elsa's shoulders. "You're right; I am. You can make it up to me by relaxing."

"I'm already—"

"No, you're not. _Relax_, Elsa. Queen's orders." Anna started massaging. And Elsa, for her part, did relax. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, she closed her eyes and melted into her seat.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Elsa murmured, wincing.

"You should be," Anna huffed, kneading even harder. It was only after she had been bored enough to think of massaging Elsa's perpetually tense shoulders that she'd discovered her sister's outrageously high pain tolerance—seriously, Elsa barely batted an eyelash at the kind of pressure that usually reduced Kristoff to tears. But Elsa was infuriatingly good at suppressing everything, so Anna had no choice but to take that as a challenge.

Surprisingly, it was pretty good stress relief for her, too.

She viciously levered her elbow down on a pressure point, grinning with satisfaction at the way it made Elsa yelp and grip the sides of the chair. "This muscle knot will never go away if you keep monopolising my study and acting like you want your old job back. Just saying."

Elsa's laugh dissolved into a hiss as Anna gleefully dug her elbow in deeper. "I think it's too late to return; this room has evidence of you all over it. You've already lost my letter opener."

"Oh, it's here somewhere. Maybe on the dartboard behind the door."

"... Have you been throwing _knives_ across—"

"_Anyway—_how about you fill me in on what you've been doing? Looks like a lot."

Elsa narrowed her eyes, but became distracted when Anna switched to her favourite massage—smoothing her thumbs up and down the base of her skull. Humming in approval, Elsa drew her hair over one shoulder and dipped her head forward so Anna could work her fingers more easily. "You may not like it, Your Majesty."

"Try me, o loyal subject of mine."

"In that case, I humbly suggest that it is time to lift the trade embargo on Weselton due to—_ow_. Anna!"

"Sorry. I thought I heard you say we should start doing business with Weaseltown again."

"I did say that."

Anna threw up her hands and hoisted herself onto the desk, facing Elsa, who regarded her dryly as she gingerly rolled out her neck. "That judgemental old man told his guards to _kill_ you, Elsa."

"I know that. He acted out of fear."

"That's not a good enough excuse to hurt someone."

"No, it's not. But don't you see, Anna? I did the same thing. My fear ended up hurting you."

Anna's eyes widened. "Elsa, I'm not saying that—"

"I know." Elsa put her hand on Anna's knee. "I know. And I won't force you to forgive the Duke, but if you can forgive me, then you can at least find it in yourself to stop blaming him."

"That's completely different. You're my sister and I love you. He is _not_ my sister and I _don't_ love him for trying to murder you."

"That was three years ago, Anna. It was one man's mistake. Right now, we need our allies more than ever; Weselton was once our largest partner in trade."

"_Was_, and for good reason. Even if I plan on becoming best buddies with Duke Dreadful—which I don't—nothing changes the fact that you spent three years filling Arendelle's coffers, Elsa. You practically traded years of your lifespan negotiating better agreements with nations that even Father couldn't get on board during his reign. We don't need to bargain for Weselton's furs and oils anymore."

"No, but we may need their iron."

Anna's mouth snapped shut. Her nails dug into the underside of the desk. "We don't know that yet."

"We don't—but it will be too late by the time we do." Exasperation crept into Elsa's voice. "I know we're still waiting to hear back from them, but I'm almost certain that Weselton also received an unwelcome letter from the Southern Isles. If Caleb thought to blackmail us from across the sea, he would definitely have sent the same threats to any neutral nation in his immediate proximity, as long as they have a sizeable army. If Prince Gregory's coup fails, then we'll need more than Weselton's iron; we'll need their _soldiers_ and that might not even—"

Elsa stopped abruptly. Her shoulders tensed once more. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you."

"Keep going."

"Anna?"

"You _are_ scaring me, but…" Anna took a deep breath and raised her head, swallowing. She felt like tipping into Elsa's arms. Letting herself be caught and held. She wanted to be protected. She wanted to be the one protecting. "Tell me what I need to hear first, and promise you'll comfort me afterwards, okay?"

Elsa's expression tore up like she'd never been more proud and chagrined to have left Arendelle in Anna's hands—no, on her shoulders. But she nodded and spread out the notes she'd written. She took Anna's hand and guided it across the map she had unfurled on the desk, murmuring patiently above her ear as if they were simply children reading another book together, exploring fairytales instead of war.

Anna listened. She listened to Elsa explaining that if Caleb remained king and did end up attacking not just Arendelle, but every nation that had refused to support him, then he would surely take his conquest from south to north. Without banding together, smaller nations like Weselton, Eldora, and Vesterland would be bulldozed by the Southern Isles' forces like dandelions in a storm. How many boats of refugees would wash up on Arendelle then? And how could Arendelle fend off an army that had gorged on and grown larger with each victory, confident that it had already crushed every ally that would have come to their aid?

"It's not just Weselton, then," Anna said eventually. "We don't just need allies—we need an alliance."

"That's right. We also need to prevent Caleb from forming one of his own. He may be tied down by Prince Gregory's siege right now, but all it will take is for someone like the Duke of Weselton to cave to his demands—"

"Oh, hell no." Anna crossed her arms. "I didn't sleep through _every_ lesson. Weselton has historically sworn fealty to Arendelle so if they want to go bending the knee to Caleb, they'd better be prepared to go through me first. _We_ were their biggest trading partner, too, and they didn't have a workaholic queen bailing them out of expensive imports. If they want access to our lumber and seafood again, then we're going to ask for a lot more than iron. We're getting the blueprints for those faster-loading crossbows I know they've just perfected. They'll send us grain so Councillor Fisker can stop hounding me about sharing resources with the refugees. And when all this is over, the Duke is going to march his 'agile peacock' self over here and formally apologise to you, Elsa. I want him bowing so deeply we can see his bald patch—that's going down in writing as a non-exceptional clause."

Elsa's mouth hung slightly open as she stared at Anna. Then, slowly, her lips curved. "Non-negotiable term," she corrected.

"Yes. That. Anything else I missed?"

Elsa shook her head.

Anna's bravado expired. "No, seriously, you can tell me if there's something I haven't thought of. Before I go and do something stupid like—"

"Anna, _relax. _I genuinely have nothing to add. You'll always have me, but it's fine if you don't always need me. I want you to remember that."

Anna lowered her head so Elsa wouldn't see her tearing up again. She needed to get some proper rest—they all did. But then her eyes landed on the map; on Arendelle. And the tiny ink trees above it.

Swallowing, she looked up at Elsa. "Then you should return to the Forest with Ryder and Honeymaren tomorrow."

There was a long, baffled silence. Anna bit her lip as Elsa's face cycled through a dozen different emotions. Hurt was the first and the last one to settle. Anna expected it, but it still tore something inside her.

"You need it, Elsa," she blurted before her sister could speak. "You haven't had a break—and before you say I haven't, either, I'm not the one with a headache that won't go away because the spirits are giving her the cold shoulder. Which means I'm not the one so distracted that she ate all her lutefisk at dinner."

Elsa recoiled. "There was lutefisk?"

"Lots of it. Everywhere."

Her sister frowned. "No, there wasn't."

"Fine, maybe not everywhere. But I did steal your last mushroom and replace it with a piece of lutefisk, and you absolutely ate that in front of my eyes. I choked so badly Kristoff nearly had to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre."

"I remember _that_," Elsa muttered. "I can't believe you ate my last mushroom. I was saving it."

"That's what I mean—you didn't even notice! But _I_ noticed." Anna reached up and rubbed Elsa's brow. "I notice this frown that _will_ turn into a wrinkle if you don't give it a rest. I notice when you're standing and sitting too straight because you're this close to going all floppy. I notice when you stare into space and start making little snowflakes for Bruni until you remember he's not with you. And I know you're not going to feel any better staying here without answers."

"Even if that's true, I wouldn't just be leaving Arendelle, Anna… I'd be leaving _you_. In the middle of all—this." Elsa tugged her fingers like she was still wearing gloves. "The people are scared and confused. We're hiding a fugitive prince. There could be a war—"

"Then come back quickly." Anna gazed fiercely into her sister's conflicted eyes. "Go back _there_, and then come back _here_. A bridge has two sides, remember? We already know you can do my job, Elsa—but at the end of the day, _you_ are the only one who can do yours. I don't have magic, sis. That's just a fact, and it's fine because I still managed to save you without them. Twice. So trust me, okay?"

Elsa opened her mouth, but now Anna couldn't stop. It all came pouring out.

"Fix whatever is separating you from the other spirits again. Go to Ahtohallan. Ask Yelana for advice. Talk to the baby reindeer that totally thinks you're its mother. Leave all this behind and go _find yourself_ again, Elsa. Because I… I miss Gale and I miss seeing you riding the Nokk into the horizon like a Valkyrie goddess. I miss knowing that _you_ know who you are. So don't stay because you feel like you need to make sure I don't screw up. I mean, I probably will anyway—"

"Anna—"

"—I don't feel in control of anything right now, but hey! It's been three months and I haven't burned Arendelle to the ground yet, and now I have this to-do list you wrote for me so it's not like I'll even have time to cry over missing you—"

"_Anna._"

"Right. Yeah. I'm listening."

Elsa reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had sprang loose in Anna's fiery delivery. Then she sighed. "Non-negotiable term."

"… I'm sorry?"

"Non-negotiable term," her sister repeated. "I'll only go if you agree to one thing."

"Yes," Anna said instantly.

Elsa looked at her.

"_Fine_. Name your terms. Term."

"You have to trust me, Anna."

"Well, duh. Of course I trust you." She blinked. "Wait. That's not the condition, is it? _Trusting you_? Am I not being obvious enough about it? Oh no, do you think I _don't_ trust you?"

"I don't think that, silly," Elsa assured. "But lately I've been reminded that you must not fully trust me, because you keep forgetting something."

"Like what? You have to be more specific. You know I forget a lot of things."

"The most important one."

Where was Elsa getting this from? Anna was pretty sure she _bled_ faith in her sister. "Can you give me a hint? Like charades?"

"I'm already doing it."

Anna narrowed her eyes. Elsa arched an expectant eyebrow.

Then they both started giggling.

"I'm sorry!" Anna gasped. "I really don't know! What _are_ you doing? Breathing? Laughing? Reading my mind?"

Elsa twirled her hand in a _go on_ gesture.

"Oh, we're really doing this! Okay, um, reading my mind, right? Psychic? Fortune teller? Thinking!"

Mirth overflowing from her twinkling eyes, Elsa pointed at Anna.

"Me? Thinking of me? Aww, sis! Me, too!"

Elsa pointed more insistently.

"What? Me, too? Something I'm doing? Something I said? Oh gosh, I say so many things. What was the last thing? Uh… go back to the Forest? Charades? Of course I trust you?"

Elsa's eyes widened. She nodded excitedly.

"Oh my God. Trust? Am I close? Are we actually going to get this? Kristoff and Olaf are going to freak." Anna's heart raced with adrenaline and glee, flushing away the tension of the past two days. She was surrounded by responsibilities and warfare and paperwork—but here was her sister making her laugh and laughing with her and… pointing at herself?

"You?"

Back at Anna.

"Me?"

A light smile played across Elsa's lips.

"Oh," Anna breathed. "_You_ trust _me._"

"You," Elsa murmured sternly, "keep forgetting that you're not the only one who believes in her sister more than anyone or anything. You don't need to be the same queen I was, and you don't need to prove yourself to anyone. You don't need magic. You—"

Anna's tackle sent them both tripping over the chair. Throwing her arms around her sister's waist, Anna pressed her ear to Elsa's beating heart, and mumbled, "I lied. I'll miss you like air."

Her sister sighed tenderly and squeezed her back, warm and tight. "You are the sun, Anna."

OoOoO

"Grandfather! Grandfather! There's someone—"

"Dagny. Do you remember what we said about noise in the morning?"

"… Keep it down?"

"Correct. Because?"

"It'll wake Tommy, and Mama will be really grumpy with me?"

"Which means?"

"Um…"

"No waffles for lunch, Dagny."

"Oh."

Folding up the day's edition of _The Village Crown_, Belland reached for his tea and hid a smile as energetic bouncing became careful pattering. A small hand tapped his elbow.

_Children,_ Belland thought fondly as he tipped his head so Dagny could whisper into his ear.

Then he was throwing a coat over his bedclothes and striding swiftly down the hall. Dagny followed excitedly, making justified hushing noises at the sharp strikes of his cane on the wooden floor. Belland shot her a firm look that sent her scampering up the stairs. Then he buttoned up his coat and opened the door.

It was still early, the village only beginning to wake in a sleepy hum. Dew glistened on his daughter's potted plants, and the morning air held a brisk snap that made Belland thankful for his coat.

Yet he felt overdressed next to the young woman on his front steps. She wore only a glowing white dress, hands clasped before her.

For a while, Belland's breaths were all that rose between them, condensing in the cold silence. Then he bowed. "Princess Elsa."

She inclined her head politely. "Councillor Belland. I apologise for calling so early. I hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all, Your Highness. Old age has made me an early riser."

"Perhaps that is not the only factor; I see it runs in the family. Your granddaughter has grown so tall."

"She has. I pray she behaved respectfully towards you, ma'am."

"She was delightful," the princess said without missing a beat, which made Belland chuckle ruefully.

"I will have another word with her."

"Please don't. It was rewarding for me to learn that the sextant I remade is working better than the first. I did have a feeling the index and horizon mirrors had been slightly too concave so I was impressed that she…" The princess caught herself and cleared her throat, self-consciously tucking her hair behind one ear.

Belland fought not to smile, and lost. "Your Highness?"

"Yes?"

"It is all we can do to keep Dagny from taking that sextant into bed with her every night. I assure you, ma'am; she treasures your gift very much."

She smiled back. "I'm pleased to hear that." Then she paused. "I believe you've been looking to speak with me for a while now, Councillor."

Belland shifted his weight, running a thumb over the top of his cane. "And I was under the impression Your Highness had been purposefully avoiding my company."

"I was."

_One step ahead._

"And now?"

Her steady gaze met his. "I'd like to ask you for a favour."

* * *

**A/N:** I need sleep. This fic has me under a spell and I'm trying to write as much as I can before I go back to work. It was so nice to be able to write sisterly fluff after so much Drama!

-Of Hans' brothers, Caleb, Lars, Rudi and Runo are canon characters from the book A Frozen Heart. Everyone else is made up, although Gregory is an old side character I resurrected from chapters 10 and 11 of The Sky Is Awake. He had a very minor role and now he's back demanding texture.

-I once saw a headcanon post postulating that Rudi and Runo were actually the Stabbington brothers from Tangled. I know from A Frozen Heart that one of the twins has blonde hair so I know it's probably not true, but hey, any chance to chuck in another Disney reference!

-The 'Elsa kisses Anna's hand' scene was inspired by a gorgeous fanart I saw somewhere. I'll share it on tumblr (themarshmallowattack dot tumblr dot com) if I can find the source. I also post snippets of chapters while I'm writing (mainly because my fingers type hilarious things that get culled during edits—you should see how Oskar first described Elsa's dress hahaha). Search 'The Next Unknown' on my tumblr and everything related should come up.

-And yes! That's our girl with the sextant! I was sad that the first one must have shared Olaf's fate when Elsa went too deep.

Thank you for reading and sticking around! Reading your reviews make my day (week? month?)!


	5. Off on a Different Path

**The Next Unknown**

_5 – Off on a Different Path_

OoOoO

She didn't want to blame it on Ryder's singing, but an acapella about frolicking in autumn leaves arguably hastened her undoing.

Elsa covered her mouth and yawned.

Honeymaren smirked at her from her seat of comfort on the wagon. "Cut it out, Ryder. You're putting Elsa to sleep."

Ahead of them, Ryder broke into an utterly tone-deaf falsetto.

Honeymaren rolled her eyes. "I know; I'm also astonished that I haven't murdered him yet. Not that you'd know anything about annoying younger siblings. You struck the jackpot with Anna."

Elsa smiled wryly. "You're romanticising it; Anna tests my patience far worse than Ryder does. But I am undeniably blessed to have her."

"See? At least you actually like each other." Honeymaren rapped her knuckles against the wooden bench. "Ryder! If your banshee cry attracts the wolves again_,_ I swear to Ahtohallan I will not be saving your weeping behind a second time!"

"Excuse me, I seem to remember being the one to swoop in and rescue you like the fearless warrior that I am!"

"And how exactly did I fall off the wagon in the first place?"

"Spirits, for the last time, _it was an accident!_"

"You two seem to get along just fine to me," Elsa chuckled.

Ryder and Honeymaren exchanged blank stares. Then they simultaneously turned to Elsa and jabbed critical fingers at each other.

"Let me clarify: I would _never_ lend Maren my favourite reindeer just so she would feel less lonely leaving me behind."

"And spirits know I'd _love_ to leave this brat behind. I'd sooner hike back to the Forest on foot than stay up all night to finish knitting a scarf for him."

"You and Anna are just weird," they concluded in uncanny unison.

Elsa decided it was easier to let it go.

She wouldn't have been able to reply anyway—Kjekk spotted a butterfly and instantly reeled in terror.

"It's okay, you're okay," Elsa said quickly, her arms wrapped tight around the horse's neck for both comfort and survival. She patted him and sang softly into his twitching ears.

The first few times it happened, her friends had gasped and worried. Now they were so used to it that Elsa had to urge Kjekk into a canter to catch up with the wagon. Ryder didn't even look as he called back, "This is why reindeers are better!"

_Take Kjekk with you,_ Anna had insisted. _He's a scaredy-pony—ow! What? You are! Anyway, just in case the Nokk is too grumpy to let you ride him, Kjekk will get you back to Arendelle in a jiffy. Because there's nothing he loves more than freaking out and running home. Isn't that right, boy?_

After nearly being thrown off half a dozen times by Kjekk's alarm over 1) a snapping branch, 2) his own reflection in the water, 3) another branch, 4) a warbler's song, 5) his reflection yet again, and 6) Ryder's admittedly staggering sneeze—Elsa could very easily imagine how Anna had ended up horseless in the mountains three years ago.

Riding Kjekk through the rocky terrain required so much focus that they had almost arrived at the Forest by the time Elsa thought to reach into the saddlebag for water. Also nestled inside, bursting with her favourite fillings, was a clumsily-made sandwich.

Somehow, the sight of it unlocked something inside of Elsa. It gave her permission to ease back in the saddle with a smile, tilt her head skyward, and inhale.

Arendelle smelled like the sea, fresh pastry, and the flowers Anna put in her hair. Arendelle carried the scent of childhood and home. But it was out here, among trees and mountains that would remain standing long after she and everything she loved had faded away, that Elsa understood the liberty of simply _being_.

Anna was right. She had needed this quite badly.

Then Kjekk came to a sudden halt, and she nearly fell off for the eighth time.

Sighing, Elsa righted herself and pushed hair out of her eyes. "What is it this time, boy?"

"Um," Ryder squeaked. "Are you all seeing this?"

"Yes," Honeymaren said slowly. "And it definitely was _not_ like this yesterday."

They both looked to Elsa for an answer—but when she looked up and saw the mist, she wasn't sure that she had one.

OoOoO

All he had to do was follow the trail.

It was Kristoff's fault for giving him those shoddy instructions before running off to help the refugees find employment in the village. Oskar was too young, but most of his people had already been recruited into castle staff positions. This suited him just fine; he didn't need Osmund's nasal voice questioning his every move. He didn't need anyone.

He did seriously consider asking the next passing servant for directions, though.

The frustrating thing was that Oskar could _see_ the stables from the windows—he had even caught a glimpse of the reindeer and the talking snowman chasing each other in the courtyard. Yet he could not for the life of him figure out how to get down there. Directionless bumbling mountain man.

Oskar was still fuming when he turned into another corridor and found himself in front of the obnoxiously messy study, its double doors wide open. Empty.

Then he spotted two loose sheets of paper on the floor.

And now he was halfway around the castle, clutching a bundle large as a dictionary, finally close enough to see the queen's dress swishing around another corner.

"Oi! Stop dropping things!"

Jesus. Was everyone in this family hard of hearing?

Oskar snatched up the sheets and scrambled after her, catching up just in time to see another piece of paper flutter to the floor. He watched her step on it… and keep walking.

"You can't be serious," Oskar muttered. "Hey, you! Anna!"

She squawked and leapt at least three feet into the air, hands flying to her chest as she whirled around—

—and dropped everything else.

"Oh. My. God," Oskar deadpanned.

"Oh my God!" she cried. "Oskar! Don't sneak up on me like that! Now look what you've done—as if I'm not already late enough."

"What _I've _done? You're the one who's been dropping stuff all over the castle!"

"Wait, really? Are you telling me I have to go all the way back and… oh?" Anna squinted at the stack in his arms. Then she did exactly what Oskar didn't want her to do, and grinned like he was a toddler presenting her with a grubby flower. "Aww! Did you pick them up for me?"

"Shut up. I'm tall enough to chuck these out the window, you know."

Laughing, she started gathering the papers around her. "Go ahead. Sven and Olaf will help me pick them up again. I have lots of friends, you see. Including you."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Sure will."

Was she seriously picking up those sheets one by one?

"So," Anna said smugly, when he crouched down to help. "What are you doing all the way here in the west wing, buddy?"

_Picking up after you._ "Looking for the stables."

"Oh, it's super easy. Just keep going straight, take the next right, head downstairs—those bannisters are super safe to slide down, by the way—then follow the paintings of naked people all the way to another set of stairs, but _don't_ go down them. Swing another right, then left, and you'll see doors opening into the courtyard. Sven and Olaf should be out there playing tag."

"… Paintings of naked people?"

"It's a Renaissance art thing. I don't know. We can ask Elsa when she gets back—ah, shoot, this one looks important." She tried to press the creases out of a document stamped with Arendelle's crocus seal.

Oskar eyed the turquoise scarf around her shoulders. It wasn't his business. He would have been none the wiser if he hadn't woken up early needing the bathroom, and happened to glance out that particular window on his way back to the Great Hall.

What an idiot.

It wasn't until he saw her head shoot up in surprise that he realised he'd said it aloud.

"My sister," Anna said, eyes narrowed, "is the least idiotic person in this whole kingdom and yes, I will fight you on that."

Oskar flushed. But whatever; he wasn't obliged to be nice. "I meant you."

"Oh. Well then, that's okay… wait, what? Excuse me?"

"You should have just told her that you didn't want her to leave," he muttered.

She smiled sheepishly and played with the tassels on her scarf. "You saw that, did you?"

He'd seen all of it. Kristoff and two other people waiting by the gates with a loaded wagon and two—_two_—reindeers, while Anna and her sister stood to the side calming an anxious-looking horse, chatting and giggling. He'd seen the Snow Queen make a signal to the snowman, who had toddled over and proudly presented a bright bundle to Anna. Oskar had watched Anna unfurl the scarf and press it to her face as if holding back tears, and when she'd hurtled herself at her sister with enough force to make them stagger, he hadn't just seen it—he'd felt it.

"I was going to the toilet." Then, before he could think too much about it, added, "Sorry."

"What? No, it's fine. Unless you're apologising for calling me an idiot."

"Definitely not."

"It was worth a shot." She deliberated, then wondered, "Did I look sad? Because I tried really hard not to look sad."

"How would I know? It was too far for me to tell." Oskar pulled the last sheets of paper towards him. Then he tugged Anna's pile out of her hands and straightened the edges, because this grown woman kept proving herself incapable of multitasking.

Case in point: as soon as her hands were free, Anna crossed her arms and settled back on her heels in a pose of serious digression. "I mean, I only cried a tiny bit when Elsa gave me the scarf, and she totally believed me when I said it was just sand in my eyes. I think. I don't know; I just didn't want her to change her mind—not that I would have let her stay, anyway, but I don't want her feeling awful for—"

"Stop worrying about what other people think. You're the queen."

She raised her eyebrows. "And Elsa's my sister. Also, worrying about other people is literally in my job description."

"No, it's not." Oskar shoved the papers at her. "A ruler's job is to rule."

"That's… I think there are lots of different ways to do that."

"You want to say that the Southern Isles aren't the golden standard of good leadership, don't you?"

"Maybe it is; maybe it isn't." Anna stood, holding the papers more securely this time. "Or maybe it needs to start with your family learning how to be an actual family, like you and Sofia."

Oskar didn't know what to say to that. Or why he automatically fell into step when she started walking. Like Kristoff, Anna shortened her strides to match his pace. And, like the chair the Snow Queen had made for him, and the clean socks Kristoff had dropped off that morning, it was annoyingly considerate.

These people were not lions. The problem was, Oskar wasn't sure what they were.

"Why did you order everyone to keep it a secret?" he asked.

"Hmm? What secret?"

"My identity. And why did you hire my staff? Did you _test_ them first?"

She smiled. "You tell me. I'm an idiot, remember?"

Definitely not a mouse.

"_You're_ not an idiot, though, so I don't need to remind you to keep it hush hush. Especially around Olaf. I love him, but he is worse than me at keeping secrets—and that's saying something."

"Scared someone will kidnap and ship me back to Caleb?" Oskar deduced dryly.

The look she gave him was by far the most serious he'd seen from her so far. "Yes, actually. So if that's what you want, Oskar, you'd better tell me now before I start doing everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen."

Lions did not spare their prey, let alone guard them.

"Then you shouldn't let me wander around the castle," he pointed out.

"Why is that?"

"I might be tempted to look in places I'm not supposed to if I've got too much time on my hands."

"Pretty sure you're just saying that to create an alibi for yourself in case you get caught, kiddo."

Not a complete idiot.

"Besides, if you can bother searching my scrapyard of an office in the first place, you deserve to find something for your efforts. You won't have time to snoop around anyway; I've got a special mission lined up for you."

"Who said I'll take orders from you?"

They turned into a hallway that was wider and more stately-looking than the rest. A steward waiting outside a pair of open doors immediately hurried over to relieve Anna of her load.

"Ooft, thanks, Kai. Let's see… this one doesn't look too important… and maybe this one, too."

Riffling through the stack, Anna drew out a few sheets. Then she led Oskar several paces away and sat down on a window ledge so they were eye-level.

"You're the highest ranking among your people here," she said matter-of-factly.

He crossed his arms. "So?"

"And you want to prove you're not a helpless kid, right?"

The unusual solemnity in her expression made him hold his tongue. Oskar nodded.

"Then here." She handed him the paper, blank sides up. "I don't know what good leadership looks like in the Southern Isles… but in Arendelle, it means being there for your people. Through life and death."

The sunlight behind shadowed her face, but it was impossible to overlook her encouraging smile.

"Prince Oskar of the Southern Isles. Will you do us the honour of setting out funeral rites so we can give your people a proper send-off?"

OoOoO

"Okay," the queen said. "Now we're ready to go wild."

The council stared at the array of documents that covered nearly every inch of the long table.

"Your Majesty?" General Mattias said bemusedly. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Oh, right. Come, General; this is your corner." Grabbing him by the sleeve, Queen Anna lead him down the table and planted him in a chair. "Councillor Roys, you're over there. Councillors Fisker and Davidsen, see those two inkwells at the end? Right there. Ah, Councillor Belland, this way, please. And Councillor Erling? Your section is opposite the general's… here. Yes, perfect."

Taking his seat, Belland glanced down at the papers scattered in front of him. Most appeared to have been written by two authors, with the queen's erratic scrawl standing out boldly next to Princess Elsa's pristine penmanship.

On the other end of the long table, Fisker picked up a sheet containing a table of numbers. "Tax revenue?" he said distastefully, as Davidsen studied his allocation and grumbled, "Fertiliser?"

"Oops, sorry—you two need to swap seats. Right. Is everyone sitting in front of something that makes sense to them?"

They all nodded back with varying levels of dubiousness.

"Good, good. So what you're looking at are some plans Elsa and I drafted for… well, everything we could think of to help us get through whatever it is we're facing. They're not perfect because we were half-asleep, but hopefully you'll understand enough to start scribbling. And if you can't read what I wrote... good luck, because I probably can't either."

"Scribbling, ma'am?" Roys questioned.

"Yep!" The queen spread her arms grandly. "_Scribble_. Write comments in the margins. Make suggestions. Cross out the parts that sound stu—um, anything that doesn't make sense! Scrap the whole plan and rewrite it if you have to. I promise I won't be offended. I know this is something different, but let's face it; we don't have the time to sit here and argue over every little thing on the agenda."

Belland was not the only one who arched an eyebrow at that. For what other purpose did the privy council exist, if not to vehemently protest change?

The queen fingered what looked to be a new bracelet around her wrist. "Arendelle might be facing its first war in thirty-something years. I haven't even been alive that long; I don't know where to start. But there are… gosh—centuries of experience between the six of you. I'm not saying that to make you feel old. Every matter before you is there because it needs _you. _Your knowledge. _I_ need you. And I might be asking more of you than my father and sister did combined, so let's make it fair."

She took in a deep breath and met each of their eyes in turn. "If you think I'm doing something wrong, say it. If you need something done, tell me. If I ask a silly question, please answer it anyway. You don't need my permission to walk out at any point and do whatever needs to be done. Talk to each other. Talk to me. Heck—talk _about_ me; I don't mind. As long as we're working together—properly. It's our best hope of getting through this."

Mystified silence.

Fisker raised a hand. "Your Majesty, if I may once more bring up the increasingly urgent matter of our grain shortage—"

"Page four. It might be out of order because I kind of dropped everything on the way here, but we did number the pages." She paused. "Okay, fine. _Elsa_ numbered them."

Fisker put on his reading glasses and shuffled through his papers. "Your Majesty, this is indeed a sound proposal, but are you certain about—"

"Elsa and I are certain about everything on this table, but that doesn't automatically make us _right. _If you disagree with anything, I'm all ears. But before you come to me, I'd like to hear you discussing it with everyone else. None of us can do our jobs in a vacuum, right?"

Fisker blinked. "Right… of course, Your Majesty."

Belland didn't blame him for his speechlessness.

"Great!" The queen clapped her hands together. "We'll stop to debrief over lunch. And dinner if we have to. Any questions?"

The councillors exchanged looks.

Mattias jokingly asked, "What's on the menu?"

"Aha! Good question, my dear sir. There will be cake and pudding and krumkake… it's dessert, really. Lunch will be dessert."

Tentative chuckles ran down the length of the table.

"Go wild, guys," Queen Anna said again, warmly. "We have a kingdom to run."

Mattias was the first to move. Then Davidsen. Eventually, even Hakon Erling reached for a quill.

Belland had served Arendelle all his life, and had seen royalty of all kinds. He knew what to look for. He knew that rulers passed orders, tyrants made demands, and recreants fled. He knew that children played with toys that weren't toys and, more often than not, broke them.

Yet it was his first time laying eyes on a queen who tripped on the same spot each time she entered the council chambers, and brought with her the unprecedented intention of making all their jobs easier in the hardest way. A queen who seemed to believe that the crown on her head did not give her power, but merely the privilege of _asking_ for it.

Then Belland corrected himself; he had seen it before. Three years ago, when another young woman had dumped piles of scrolls and books on this same table, and requested their counsel. And again only hours ago, when she had stood on his front steps to ask for a favour.

The only thing left for Belland to question now, was his answer.

OoOoO

"Your Majesty, may I—"

"I give up!" Anna flopped back and nearly stabbed her quill into Mattias's eye. "Gah, I'm sorry! I didn't see you there! I'm all over the place today."

Only last night she had so smugly called Elsa out for being distracted. Now Anna was back to dropping classified documents all over the castle—which, come to think of it, wouldn't have happened in the first place if she hadn't been watching the celestial glow drain out of her new bracelet as her sister travelled further away. So really, it was Elsa's fault.

_Promise you'll break this if you need me, Anna._ _I'll know, and I promise I'll come for you._

Anna had nearly snapped those beautiful snowflake links as soon as she'd stepped into the council chambers.

All this time, she'd thought that Elsa had shouldered so many state responsibilities because she was just _Elsa_, and couldn't delegate without feeling like she was shirking her duties. There was the perfectionism, too, but now Anna understood why her sister had preferred to do so much on her own.

Apparently, one competent person could accomplish more than a group that took five hours to agree on _one thing._ And to Anna's chagrin, most of the time that single consensus was to postpone the matter for later discussion.

_If there is anyone who can wrangle the privy council into a functional team,_ Elsa had chuckled a little too merrily, _it's you, sis._

Now, Anna wished she could take a photograph and send it to her sister. Arendelle's most privileged and haughty, bent over a shamble of paperwork and throwing discussions across the table like students in a rowdy classroom. They were arguing, alright, but at least there was now an undercurrent of progress to their exasperated tones.

Mattias seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he chuckled, "If you can be all over the place and still make _this_ happen, I reckon you could conquer the world after a good night's sleep. I see Princess Elsa finished the scarf, by the way. It looks lovely on you."

Anna's mouth dropped open. "How do you all… am I the only one who didn't know Elsa was knitting me a scarf?"

"Pretty sure you're the only one who wasn't supposed to know, ma'am."

"Treason," Anna grumbled.

Mattias chuckled again.

The scarf looked and felt like Mother's one, but it invariably smelled of Elsa. She had looked like she'd wanted to say something when she'd wrapped it around Anna's shoulders. Anna had meant to ask, but unsealing her lips would have meant collapsing into more tears, so she'd plunged into Elsa's arms and understood that _two sisters, one mind_ meant words were unnecessary.

Anna brandished the delicate chain of snowflakes on her wrist. "Look what else she made me!"

Mattias looked impressed. "Now that's elegance. Is there anything the princess can't make?"

"Sure: something ugly."

They both struggled to control their snickers.

"Good for you, Anna," Mattias said, and she beamed back because he didn't understand exactly how good it was for her.

Olaf probably wouldn't understand, either, but he would definitely notice that Anna no longer had to track him down at odd hours to ask if Elsa was okay.

"Sorry, I completely side-tracked there. Did you want to ask me something?"

"Ah, yes." Mattias cleared his throat. "May I take leave to convene with my captains and lieutenants? We'll need to do a full inventory of the armoury, and find suitable locations to start running naval drills without the danger of hitting ice."

"Kristoff would be able to show you some good spots. And you don't have to ask for permission, remember? Just go, go, go."

Mattias bowed, but didn't move.

Anna sighed. "Oh, just tell me. By this point, no one in Arendelle can take bad news better than me."

"Why doesn't that make me feel any better?"

"Because you're nice. But I'm a big girl. So spill."

Mattias ran a hand through his hair and leaned in just as Anna accidentally caught Hakon's eye.

They both looked away at the same time.

"You may not know this, ma'am," Mattias was saying, "but Arendelle's military strength was once a force to be reckoned with. Enough to send the Southern Isles packing."

"I do know," Anna replied distractedly. "King Runeard, right?"

"I understand your feelings towards him even if I still can't make sense of my own after thirty-four years of… not knowing what he had meant to do. But I grew up under his reign and served him for a short time before it happened. While I don't mean to lessen the gravity of his wrongdoings, there were other things for which I believe King Runeard should be remembered."

Anna ticked off her fingers. "He modernised our shipping routes, fended off three skirmishes, and expanded the ice-harvesting industry so that those profits alone nearly funded the entire construction of the castle. He kept Arendelle safe from invasions until we were large enough that our neighbours begged to become our allies. Runeard was a wise and strong king and would have gone on to do many more great things. Except he tried to commit genocide and ran into this thing called _karma_."

She tipped her head back and regarded Mattias. "We both know what my grandfather did. Maybe a little too well. But you're only reminding me because you think some of his footsteps are worth following, don't you?"

"You never cease to impress me, Your Majesty."

"That's totally why I keep crashing into suits of armour; it keeps the bar low." Anna chewed on her lower lip. Then she sighed noisily. "_Fine_. If you think some of Runeard's wartime strategies will be useful to us now, write it down and come back later. Because I can't guarantee I won't toss them straight into the fire if you gave them to me now."

"Of course, ma'am. May I add one more thing?"

"Please tell me it's something good."

"Very." Mattias set a hand on Anna's shoulder. "It was my loss to have missed out on Queen Elsa's reign, just as I will always regret missing out on your father's. But I really do see the best of them both in you, Anna."

She put her hand over his. "Thanks, Mattias."

"Anytime, ma'am."

"I can really see how you kept Halima under your spell for three decades. If you ever need a top-up before popping the big question—"

"Your in-laws are love experts. Your sister already played that one on me."

"Damn it, Elsa!"

After Mattias left, Anna looked back down at the missive she'd been writing and realised she could barely read it. The grandfather clock unapologetically reminded her that lunch was still a long way away. And the end of her work was even further.

Anna pulled Elsa's scarf tighter around her. The bracelet still sparkled, but only when it caught the light; its magical glow had faded. Elsa must have reached the Forest by now, diving straight into putting things right because there was nothing Anna's big sister couldn't do.

She'd managed to make Anna believe she was the sun, after all.

The chair screeched on the floor as she stood.

Every councillor looked up, but Anna's sights were set on one person as she marched over and dropped into an empty seat beside him.

Hakon's glasses were so impeccably polished that Anna only saw her reflection in the green of his unreadable eyes. "Your Majesty," he greeted unenthusiastically.

"Councillor Erling. You've been rather quiet."

"As have you, ma'am."

"Really? My throat feels dry."

"Relatively quiet," he amended just as dryly.

For a moment, Anna caught a glimpse of the Hakon she knew; the one who used to say the wrong things at the right time instead of the wrong things at the wrong time.

Then he added stiffly, "Is there something you need from me?"

Oh, now he was choosing ice over fire? Even better. Anna knew a lot about thawing.

She gestured to the papers in front of him. "That's a lot of feedback. Want to walk me through?"

"For starters, you misspelled 'preferential'."

"Did not. That's an E, right there. See?"

"That is the trademark squiggle you use to leave yourself a plausible exit."

"Blasphemy, don't know what you're talking about, off with your head." She reached for his cup out of habit. Faltered. Committed. "Can I have some of your tea?"

"It's—"

She instantly gagged. "Hot! And it's _coffee_!"

"Black, too." Hakon manoeuvred the cup away from her twitching fingers.

"It tastes like tar!"

"How would you know what tar tastes like?"

"You don't want to know." Anna fanned her scalded tongue. God, she missed Elsa so badly. "Ugh! I probably did need that caffeine hit, but when did you start drinking coffee? We hate it."

"_You_ hate it," he said. Then added indifferently: "Ma'am."

Now the taste in her mouth was far more unpleasant than that of tar-like coffee.

_Don't be surprised if you find Councillor Erling a little… difficult to work with_, Elsa had advised soon after making Anna ambassador. _He doesn't like a lot of people._

Anna had laughed at her sister's melodrama. Then she'd actually met the man.

Never in Anna's life had she laid eyes on someone so visibly spiteful, or someone she had so quickly learned to hate back. Hakon Erling hadn't even tried to hide his disdain for everything, least of all Anna. He'd lorded the twelve years he had over her like it justified his arrogance. Like it was a law of universe that he was always right. The nerve! The size of his inflated round head!

Then, despairingly, Anna discovered that Hakon Erling _was_ always right.

He could read a thirty-page trade agreement and summarise its key points before _Elsa_ was even halfway. He had a photographic memory for every dignitary's name, face, nervous ticks, political leanings, dietary requirements, and even their mother's cousin's stepbrother's birthday. The mere sight of his name on the list of attendees made kings sweat, because there were tavern tales of Hakon Erling's legendary tendency to be halfway back to Arendelle before the hosts sobered up and properly comprehended that they had somehow agreed to another year of tariff-free trade. In writing.

Hakon Erling was brilliant. He was also absolutely dreadful at leaving good impressions.

Which was where Anna had come in.

Chocolates and birthday cards—and one time, even a pony—began arriving on top of the tariff cuts. They started off debriefing with Elsa, then eventually with just the two of them over a pot of tea. Except their meetings always ran hours longer than necessary because Anna couldn't stay on topic and Hakon couldn't stop correcting her on every little thing, and they'd guzzle down too much tea and wind up miserably sleep-deprived in the carriage the next morning, knocking shoulders and blaming each other for everything.

Yet Anna had never doubted that she'd only need to shoot a desperate look across the ballroom for Hakon to roll his eyes and sigh and come over to rescue her from another zealous dignitary waltzing her to an early grave.

It had felt to Anna like she and Hakon had stopped hating each other a long time ago. Clearly, she was wrong.

Maybe she was the only one who had thought Hakon would actually be proud to see her coronated. And if he couldn't see her as both Anna and the Queen of Arendelle, it left her no choice but to choose.

Sitting up straighter, Anna crossed one leg over the other. "Lifting the embargo with Weselton is going to take a lot of work. I value your advice."

"Do you really?"

Across the table, Councillor Davidsen loudly cleared his throat.

Anna forced herself to focus. "I do. The question is: are you going to make me regret it, Councillor?"

Hakon straightened several documents and didn't look up. Nor did he answer her question. "I can depart for Weselton in three days. I believe I can convince the duke to part with a crate of the improved crossbows themselves, on top of giving us the blueprints."

"I heard they only take modified bolts. Think you can get us some of those, too?"

"Please don't patronise me."

"Wouldn't dream of it. I'll make sure your mother is well looked after while you're gone."

"My mother is capable of looking after herself."

In the end, it was this one blatant lie that shattered Anna's resolve.

"Hakon… come on." She reached out to touch his arm.

He snatched it away as if burned.

Anna had grown up hearing _go away_, but this was the first time she had seen it. Once was more than enough.

She stood up abruptly. "I'll… leave it to you, then. Find me when you've finished writing up the agreement."

"Wait."

She cursed herself for turning around so easily. "Yeah? I mean—yes?"

"There is one more matter to discuss." Hakon's expression was eerily neutral, as if he hadn't just acted like her touch had stained his soul. "If we are correct and Weselton is also under a similar threat from the Southern Isles, then the value of our seafood exports would pale next to that. The duke will choose gold over the promise of long-term gain."

"Then give him gold. Our budget is in surplus thanks to Elsa, and we all know how well you haggle."

Fisker suddenly spoke up. "Your Majesty, I believe Councillor Erling is implying that we would do well to guard our wealth for the same reason Weselton would so desperately seek to increase theirs."

"War is expensive," Roys reminded.

Anna frowned. "We're not at war yet."

"But the markets already are, ma'am," Davidsen said, his gruff voice patient. "Thanks to Caleb sending out those deranged demands all over the region, every nation will be preparing for the worst case scenario. They'll hoard their raw materials, see our lack thereof, and inflate their oil and ore prices to the stratosphere. As Erling said, seafood and many of our major exports will become impractical luxuries. The threat of war stagnates an economy long before the first blood is spilled; if we are not prudent with our gold from the very beginning, we may find ourselves struggling to finance our supply lines and falling into debt."

Anna grimaced. She and Elsa had been too tired to finish their discussion of economics last night. "I get what you're saying, but we need iron for our weapons and armour. Weselton knows that. If gold is the only way they'll give it to us, then that's that."

"There are other ways to secure what we need," Hakon said. "I am merely asking for Your Majesty's permission to utilise those methods."

"What kind of methods?" Anna asked blankly. Then it clicked. "Wait—you're not suggesting we _steal_ from them?"

"Of course not. I simply have certain leverage over some lords in the region."

"So now you want us to _blackmail_ them? We're trying to form an alliance, Hakon! Do you think Vesterland and Eldora will trust us if we go around treating people like another Caleb? If we cheat Weselton of their resources, they're either going to side with Caleb, or suffer those same financial issues Councillor Davidsen talked about. Then we'd have to help them anyway!"

"Not necessarily. An alliance is indeed necessary for the region's defence, but from a strategic point of view, Weselton is—"

"_Don't_," Anna growled, "say 'expendable'."

Hakon narrowed his eyes. "I was under the impression that Your Majesty loathed the Duke of Weselton for his mistreatment of the princess."

"Yes, I hate him more than pickles. But if you think that's enough to turn me into a bully and abandon a territory that the past kings of Arendelle once protected, then you weren't paying attention when I opened our gates to the refugees. They don't have to be our people to _be_ people."

Anna looked around the table. Elsa's absence was a gaping hole, but it was also a door left open, because _You don't need to prove yourself to anyone._

"We can find a way to afford fair trade," she said firmly, "but what we can't afford is to make monsters of ourselves. If we start doing what we _can_ instead of what we _should_, then we're just making the same mistake as my grandfather. And you know how that turned out."

Hakon's eyes were hard jades.

Surprisingly, it was Councillor Belland who said, "Heartening as your spirit may be, Your Majesty, the reality remains that optimism is not a viable currency."

Anna's mind churned. She began to feel hot and flustered but for a narrow strip of snowflakes on her wrist. What would Elsa do?

_You have to trust me, Anna._

Her eyes landed on Councillor Davidsen's account records.

She had more than optimism. A whole lot more.

Anna grinned. "You're all going to hate this idea."

OoOoO

The first thing Elsa did when they made it to the other side was thrust her hand back into the diaphanous veil. Her fingers sank smoothly into the white, leaving behind a swirling trail of confusion.

Letting out an exhale of relief, she turned to see Ryder and Honeymaren rubbing their arms. The reindeers shook out their fur coats. Anna and Kristoff hadn't reacted the first time, so it hadn't occurred to Elsa that others might find the mist chilling. But many things were different about this second passage through the mist. It hadn't locked them in, for one.

It also hadn't parted at her touch.

The panic had struck hard and fast. Had the spirits and Ahtohallan shut her out again? Or was it because she wasn't holding Anna's hand and the bridge was incomplete? Anna believed that Elsa could find solutions and find herself, but what if she couldn't even find her way in?

Then Honeymaren had cautiously prodded her spear into the mist while Elsa stood ready to shield them from the ricochet… and they'd all gawked when the spearhead passed cleanly through.

It had taken Elsa a moment to find her voice again. "Go on… I'll be right behind you."

Just in case she was the only one the mist intended to keep out.

Yet here they were. Lost, in the wrong sense of the word.

The pounding in her head picked up a sharp rhythm. _This is your fault,_ the voice said melodically, as if it would have happened sooner or later. As if Elsa was cursed to make a big mistake.

"Maybe it's just a foggy day?" Ryder suggested nervously. "I mean, the Forest itself is looking kind of misty."

Kjekk whinnied. He had quavered so badly that Elsa had needed to dismount and walk him through the mist.

_He doesn't realise that you are the one he should be fearing._

Kjekk pushed his head against her shoulder, demanding comfort. Elsa found herself pressing her forehead to his. It wasn't watery and calm, and he wouldn't appreciate her ice giving him a solid form for prancing around. But his warmth summoned sunshine.

_You always make everything better,_ her little sister had said, as if she wasn't the one who had reached up and filled Elsa's empty sky with stars.

_Do the magic, do the magic!_

Elsa rubbed her fingertips together. "Ready, Kjekk?"

Kjekk stopped trembling the instant a snow apple dangled in front of him. He tried to bite it. It dipped and danced away, leading him on a whimsical chase around the wagon.

Elsa turned to Honeymaren and Ryder. "Let's start by looking for Yelana. I believe the camp moved after I left for Arendelle. Can you find it?"

"Of course," Honeymaren replied, as Ryder scoffed in mock offence, "Is the sky blue? Ow!" Honeymaren had elbowed him.

Elsa looked ruefully up at the white expanse above them.

Then her world suddenly exploded into red and black.

Elsa sank to her knees with a ragged gasp.

_Across the river, the giants stirred in broad daylight. Lavender flames blazed though the woods, ignoring every tantalising snow pile because she was back._

Hands on her shoulders, voices rankled with concern, a warm muzzle in her face.

She couldn't open her eyes. It was too crowded inside and out. She bit down on a scream.

_Breathe, Elsa,_ her father murmured.

_No, don't get close,_ she thought lightheadedly. _I don't want to hurt you._

Two breaths in, one out.

Dizzily recalling her sister's hand on her brow, Elsa was overcome by a senseless urge to laugh. _You might actually be able to feel this one, Anna._

A gust encircled her, whipping through her hair and dress. Gale's winds did not tinker with music; they crashed and twisted and turned. And they pulled at her. _Get up._

_She remembered the cold. It was sharp and harsh and its bitter bite remained in her veins long after she and the ice collapsed. She didn't remember plummeting and sinking, but she remembered vividly the pulling, the carrying, the protecting. She remembered thinking, her cheek pressed to a watery mane, that she would not have been able to get up on her own._

Heat scampered up her arm, sizzling the whole way until she felt a tiny lick on her cheek.

"Hello, Bruni," Elsa mumbled. "I'm sorry… I just… need a moment."

The earth shook with heavy footsteps.

_It had coursed and burned through each of them, too, but it was worse for her because their attempt to cut it off before it flooded over the bridge had only caused it to pool, lying in wait, and now she'd sunk into its depths. It was worse for her because she couldn't distinguish her pain from theirs. Worse because she was human. Worse because she didn't know that was not the worst of it._

Elsa burned.

"Everyone get back," she heard herself rasp. "Gale, please—"

A tempest whipped up around her. Only this time, it wasn't there to test her.

Elsa let go.

She didn't know how long it took for the blizzard to settle—how long it took for _her_ to settle. By the time she managed to open her eyes, chest heaving, the shadows of three Earth Giants had engulfed their party. Ryder and Honeymaren struggled to placate Kjekk, who looked manically torn between running away and running towards Elsa.

Bruni tugged on her hair, wide eyes urgent. _Get up. Look._

"Okay," Elsa breathed, cradling him to her chest as she tried to rise. The wind caught her when her legs buckled. "Thanks, Gale… but I'm sorry; I don't think I can—"

The tallest Earth Giant extended a colossal hand towards her. Elsa lost sight of Ryder and Honeymaren as it scooped her up and rose. She couldn't see much of anything, and so she closed her eyes and exhaled, letting herself go limp.

Bruni pulled worriedly on her thumb.

"I'm okay," she murmured. "You're not angry with me anymore?"

Gale caressed her cheek.

_Not anger. Fear._

Elsa blearily opened her eyes. Then the giant unfurled its fingers, and her question dissolved into a gasp of wonder as the world spilled out before her.

The mist had gone as suddenly as her pain had come. Elsa saw the trees, the mountains, the caverns, the cliffs. She saw the scattered canvas of Northuldra camps, and the silhouette of a shipwreck in the distance. She saw the Enchanted Forest in its most enchanting state.

Then the giant brought her lower, and Elsa realised with rising dread what she couldn't see.

_Water_.

* * *

**A/N:** BEAUTIFUL ART ALERT! I commissioned the very talented princessmimoza on tumblr to draw something I could use as a cover for this fic because a) I was procrastinating, b) I hope it will keep me motivated to finish this story, and c) there's never enough Frozen fanart and ways to support artists. My only input was 'sisters looking badass please' and she performed sheer magic. Sadly had to crop the image to fit the cover dimensions but will add a link to the full version after princessmimoza uploads it to her social channels. In the meantime, please check her out and join me in salivating over her art.

Finally, I can't thank you all enough for following this little project of mine. Every kind review and message reminds me of why I love to write fanfiction. I may be a writer, but only wonderful readers like you make me feel like a storyteller :) So thank you!

P.S. Writing this chapter was such a struggle street that there's a whole deleted scene (Anna, Kjekk, reindeers) on my tumblr, themarshmallowattack. I had a little too much fun.


	6. It's Your Turn

**The Next Unknown**

_6 – It's Your Turn_

OoOoO

Anna's snoring was like the crash of a waterfall—loud, monotonous, reliable. Its sudden absence, Kristoff had learned, was utterly terrifying. But tonight wasn't one of those nights.

Tonight, the high-ceilinged, sparsely-furnished council chambers provided such brilliant acoustics that Kristoff had been able to hear her from the other end of the hallway. He found her sprawled sideways across the same armchair that had given him neck pain two nights ago, her limbs splayed over the sides, mouth gaping so wide that he could have dropped the whole cake inside. The bracelet on her wrist was the brightest thing in the room—Kai must also have found his queen fast asleep and left the lights off—and there was the scarf, clutched tight to Anna's chest like a child's favourite doll.

Kristoff had come prepared to carry her to bed, but now he just wanted to watch her sleep. Peacefully.

As soon as he sat down and started to eat, though, Anna stirred. "Kristoff…?"

"Mm hmph fiph."

She snapped to attention—Kristoff half-expected to see lightning in his wife's eyes as they honed in on the fork in his mouth. "Are you eating _cake_?"

He swallowed. "Your cake. But you weren't awake, so it's mine now."

The fork vanished from his hand. And suddenly the Queen of Arendelle was in his lap, yanking the cake towards her with the savagery of a wild boar. Kristoff felt his biceps engage with the effort of resisting her. It had taken months for him to learn how to stop offering to carrying things for Anna—until the day she'd rescued old Mr. Olsen's wagon from a pothole _and_ whisked it to the top of the steep slope before he had rolled up his sleeves.

"Give me my cake, husband!"

"Nuh uh. Hydrate first." He reached around her for the glass of water and watched it disappear like a spell. God forbid Anna do anything half-heartedly.

She thrust the empty glass back at him.

Satisfied, Kristoff handed her the cake. "You didn't skip dinner, did you?"

"Nope. This is even my second dessert of the day." She took a massive bite, then tipped her head back against his shoulder, icing-smeared lips lifting into a tantalising smile. "But I guess I wouldn't mind a third."

He still didn't understand how Kristoff of Nowhere In Particular had become Prince Kristoff of Arendelle, but what baffled him most was that he was allowed to be _hers_. He didn't understand how such a tiny person could hold within her more strength, love, and life than a hundred men, and still have room left for him. But he understood the way they both tilted their heads to the left; the warmth of her hands on his shoulders; the map formed by her freckles; the music of her giggle as his stubble grazed her cheek. He understood the shape of her handprint on his heart, and that he'd been a fool to think that he could wait until tomorrow to catch up with her.

"Guess what?" she murmured into his lips. "You're really stuck with me for life now."

"Woe me."

"I'm serious, Kristoff. I just gave away my dowry."

"Is that some kind of dress?"

Anna's laugh was a puff of warmth against his face. "You're kidding, right? Don't you remember the gold and gifts and all the, you know—_shiny things_ Elsa tried to give to you and the trolls when we got married? That was a dowry; my dowry. The trolls only accepted the gemstones, and you refused everything else. You're, like, the first prince consort in Arendelle's history to turn down a queen's dowry."

"Aren't I the first prince consort in Arendelle's history?"

"Oh, _now_ you know your stuff."

"Yeah, because that's relevant to me. Your _dowry_ is not. What am I supposed to do with all that gold? I'm living in a castle, my ice harvesting job is now a means to be helpful rather than a means to survive, and I still have the fancy sled Elsa bought for me."

"That was for being my friend, you goof. The dowry is something you get for becoming my _husband_."

"Exactly—why on earth would you need to pay me for that?"

"It's supposed to symbolise that I'm, you know, a valuable bride!"

"That's pretty dumb."

"Kristoff Bjorgman, are you saying I'm not valuable?"

"I'm saying," Kristoff said, rolling his eyes, "that the best part of marrying you is supposed to be _you_. You're the prize, Anna. So it's stupid to advertise a mountain of gold instead."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then her face split into a broad smile like a ray of sunshine cutting through stormy clouds. "Aww. Thanks, honey. I kind of needed to hear that."

"Someone else I need to trip in the hallway?"

"Nope. I solved the problem. See, the council thinks we need to start being stingy with our money—but then I remembered we still had my dowry just sitting in the vaults. So I told them to spend it before digging into the treasury funds. You know what that means, Kristoff?"

"You're a wise and benevolent ruler?"

Anna set the cake on the floor and took his face in both her hands. "It means that if Arendelle isn't dirt-poor by the end of this war, it's only because I married a hopeless romantic."

A low hum resonated from his throat. "I assume you're going to take full credit for that."

"Oh, absolutely. Councillor Davidsen looked like he was going to pop an artery but everyone else looked impressed. Sort of. The new problem is, no one important will want to marry me without a decent dowry, so you're not allowed to get sick of me. If something happens to you…" Anna curled up against him. "Just promise me you'll be careful," she whispered. "Every day. Everything you do."

Kristoff blinked through wisps of her hair. Then he wrapped all of himself around all of her, wishing vehemently that it was all it took to protect her—from war and death, and councillors heartlessly reminding her that something could easily happen to her husband and leave her widowed. Kristoff wished that he could promise that nothing _would_ happen to him, and that he'd be by her side till a ripe old age, never leaving her alone for a single day.

He knew another person with whom he shared this wish.

"What are you doing?" Anna asked when he started plucking pins out of her hair.

"Do you have a hairband on you?"

She slipped one off of her wrist and handed it over her shoulder, shooting him a curious smile as she caught on. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I've practiced on Kjekk's tail."

"Brave man. You didn't get your face kicked in?"

"Almost. I actually couldn't get anywhere near him. Ended up looping some rope around Sven's antlers."

Anna laughed and turned around in his lap so he could work more easily, her long hair burning like the flames in the fireplace. "And is Sven as good at braiding as he is at charades?"

"Nope. He was useless." Kristoff drew her hair back and split it into three. _Left, cross, right, cross. _"Good thing someone who is dreadful at charades but brilliant at braiding came along to teach me."

"… _Elsa_ taught _you_ how to _braid_?"

"Why is that so surprising?"

"_Um._"

"Yeah, okay, I get it. I wasn't expecting it either. She walked in on me practicing and scared the life out of me."

_May I?_ his sister-in-law had asked amusedly; a redundant question seeing as the ropes were already in her hands after Kristoff had yelped and thrown them into the air. Her deft hands had blurred together. _This is a French braid. Dutch braid. Pull-through braid. Waterfall braid. The symmetry of Anna's pigtails would be difficult for a beginner; I suggest you start with a simple three-strand braid. Here, hold your fingers like this…_

At the end, Elsa had smiled shyly and asked, _Would you like to try it for real now?_ He'd thought it meant they were going to find Anna, but Elsa had shaken out her hair and sat down in front of him. And Kristoff had been overcome by an emotion not unlike the first time he had seen her ice palace.

"Miss her?"

"Mhmm." Anna drew her legs up and hugged them, the snowflake bracelet pressed to her lips. "Oskar called me an idiot today. I wanted to hug him."

"You wanted to hug him for calling you an idiot," Kristoff clarified.

She smacked him on the knee. "No, dummy. He said I shouldn't have let Elsa go if I was going to miss her so much. It was just… it's cruel. I miss Elsa even though I know exactly where she is. But Oskar… sometimes I look at him and I can't tell if he understands that Sofia isn't coming back."

Kristoff hadn't been sure he was doing the right thing, inviting a twelve year old to see death up close. Oskar hadn't flinched or cried or even appeared surprised. Instead, he'd stared at his sister's body for a long time, and when he had eventually lifted a hesitant hand, it wasn't to touch her; he had touched the _ice_. The same way Kristoff had seen Anna sneak into the study to drape a blanket over a sleeping Elsa; a younger sibling looking out for their big sister. Except Anna had wanted to keep Elsa warm, and Oskar had wanted to check that Sofia was cold enough.

"I think he understands," Kristoff said simply.

Anna's shoulders slumped. "Then that's even worse. He calls his father by his title, Kristoff. I don't know if Sofia was a friend or someone who worked for his family; but if Oskar thought of her as his sister, she might have been the only one who actually cared about him. And I don't think he's let himself grieve her properly… that's why I asked him to plan the funeral rites. I thought it would be a chance for him to do something for Sofia and his people; give him permission to _go there_, you know? He's always on our case for treating him like a kid, so I wanted to—"

She suddenly rocketed to her feet, ripping the half-finished braid out of Kristoff's hands. He made a futile swipe for her unravelling hair. Missed.

"I asked a twelve year old boy to plan his sister's funeral!" Anna gasped. "I'm a horrible person. Why didn't I think this through? Will this scar him for life? He's probably crying into his pillow right now. I'm going to—"

This time, Kristoff managed to grab Anna's hand—there would be no catching her otherwise. "Hey, hey. Oskar's fine. Your little project isn't hurting him."

"You don't know that!" she wailed.

"I do, actually, because I found him in the stable when I went to see Sven and Olaf. He had pencils everywhere, drawing some kind of boat. The little rascal had the nerve to tell me to stand still so he could use my shoes as reference."

"He did?"

"Yes. And he kept complaining about how you were using him for slave labour. No sign of tears or trauma."

"That's a good sign, right?"

"It's a good sign."

"I did the right thing?"

Kristoff pulled her back into his lap. "You always do, Anna."

She went unusually quiet at that. Kristoff focused on her hair and tried to salvage what he could, because he was _not_ starting that braid from scratch again.

"Where _do_ you get your shoes from, honey?"

"Ice harvesters have a network of Sami tailors. Why? You want a pair?"

"Yeah, for Oskar—so you two can match."

Screw the braid. Kristoff wrapped his arms around Anna and mercilessly tickled her.

Her pensive mood was instantly shredded by yelps and snorts and desperate cries of "Nonono—aha! I yield! Gah! Uncle! _I said uncle!_"

Grinning, Kristoff tossed his wriggling wife over one shoulder and headed for the door. "Let's get Her Majesty to bed before she makes another stupid statement."

"Wait, I still need to finish—"

"Sleeping. That's the last thing you were doing, and the only thing on your agenda until the sun comes up tomorrow."

"But—"

"You're doing an Elsa."

That made her grumble and slacken so that she hung like a sack of potatoes.

Kristoff smirked and adjusted his grip. Anna had been so good about delegating and managing her new workload that he'd feared he would never get the chance to whip out the ace card she'd given him permission to use.

"At least I migrated to something comfortable," she protested. "Elsa would have passed out at the table."

"That bar is set too low."

"Also, I'm only this knackered because I spent the day teaching the council how to cooperate—which Elsa said only _I_ could do."

"Real proud of you, honey." Kristoff reached for the door.

"And Elsa said that—she's back!"

"Pretty sure she'd have to be physically here to say that."

"No, it's—Kristoff, put me down. Please." There was a breathless edge to Anna's voice.

Setting her down, Kristoff realised his wife was glowing in the dark. No, that wasn't it—Elsa's bracelet was the one shining like a beacon.

Then the windows on the far side of the room also began to lighten.

"No," Anna moaned suddenly. "No, no, no… not again, please…"

Kristoff reached for her just as the brocade curtains blew apart, and a comet of ice streaked into the room. It headed straight for them—straight for Anna—and circled her like an embrace. Then there was a crack, a snap, a frosty flash, and suddenly large diamond crystals hovered in the air.

Kristoff barely noticed any of it because Anna had dropped to the floor, eyes squeezed shut as she pulled her scarf so tightly around her that he worried she couldn't breathe.

He dropped to his knees beside her. "Anna, hey—it's okay. It's just a message from Elsa. Look." He pried her trembling hands away so they could both see the bracelet twinkling like a promise. "See? Elsa's okay. Olaf's okay. You're okay, Anna. C'mere."

With a muffled sob, she collapsed into his arms. Kristoff helplessly kissed the top of her head, felt the braids he'd made fall apart as he rubbed her back, and added another thing to the list of things he couldn't protect Anna from.

He couldn't even protect himself from it. He had to stare fiercely at the floating ice crystals to keep himself from being drawn back into the memory of being lost in the woods, certain that Elsa's sculptures ought to be here somewhere, but finding only mounds of crumpled, melting ice, flaking away in the autumn breeze.

Kristoff was so focused on the crystals that he momentarily forgot they were supposed to be a message. Then he stared even harder.

"Anna. Honey. You need to see this."

She raised her head, still holding the bracelet close to her heart. The crystals' glow pooled in the wet shine of her eyes.

"Look—air, fire, earth."

Anna blinked, and craned her neck. "Where's water?"

OoOoO

The cold bothered her. The sight of her breaths condensing before her was one she had never seen before—one she'd never expected to see—and it mesmerised her. That was why it had taken so long for her to realise her breathing had become shallow. She couldn't feel her hands. Her legs refused to move.

She needed to tell Anna that she'd gone too deep. Had to force her freezing fingers open and send the message.

But there was something else Anna needed to know, too. She had to choose.

It was cold. She was cold.

_Too late,_ the voice taunted.

A glimmer of light appeared in the encroaching darkness. _Fire,_ she pleaded. But it was far more than that. It was the sun. Frozen.

"Anna? No… _no… _not again…"

Behind her, metal sang as a sword pulled free of its sheath. But that didn't matter anymore because she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

Couldn't say goodbye.

She couldn't even close her eyes. Couldn't look away as the darkness drew nearer, but so very slowly, refusing to spare her the last sight of her worst nightmare. Shards of ice crept through her chest, searching for her heart, and her only solace as the final breath passed her frosted lips was the knowledge that they would find it already frozen numb.

A snowflake drifted onto her trembling lips, and Elsa snapped awake.

Thatched roof overhead. Furry mattress beneath her. Light.

Dropping a hand over her eyes, she took in a deep, shaky breath. _Anna is okay. I am okay. Arendelle is safe and everything is—_

The Nokk.

She shot upright just as a cloth slapped into her face.

"Don't sit up so fast," said a curt voice.

"… Yelana?"

"Wipe your face. You look like a ghost."

Disorientation was shunted aside by the instinct to obey that dry, authoritative voice. The coolness of the cloth on her flushed skin rekindled a snap of ice in her chest, seeping in deep—

Warmth tumbled into her lap, all knobbly limbs and coarse fur.

"Hello, Bucky." Elsa gave the baby reindeer a small smile, tapping his nose.

Bucky brayed happily.

On the other side of the hut, Yelana rummaged through a chest and said without looking up, "It should be 'Birki'. At least that name has a meaning."

"'Bucky' does have meaning; it means Ryder should have known better than to leave the naming to Anna. He responds to it, so he must like it. Isn't that right, Bucky?"

He licked her hand.

"It's not the name he responds to," Yelana retorted, finding a jar of brown powder. "It's your voice; you could call him _Doavki_ and he would still come running. You've spoiled him."

"_Doavki_," Elsa repeated, filing away the new word. "What does that mean?"

"Idiot." Yelana didn't blink when Elsa sputtered, merely adding a dash of the jar's contents to a wooden bowl. "Hungry?"

"S-Sorry? No, thank you, I'm actually—"

Yelana thrust the bowl at her. Knowing better than to refuse, Elsa accepted it with a murmur of gratitude.

The broth was green and thick. Bucky's curious sniff turned into a whine of displeasure. Elsa was only able to keep from wrinkling her nose because Anna had hated trying new foods as a child, and so Elsa had mastered the art of pretending that everything was scrumptious.

"Thank you," she gasped out after forcing down the last dregs. "It's very… nice."

"It tastes like moss grown between a troll's toes. But nothing warms the body better, or faster."

Elsa started to say that she wasn't cold, but then she saw Yelana nonchalantly brush white powder off her shoulders.

Everything in the hut was coated with snow.

Mortified, Elsa flicked her wrist and vaporised the mess. "I am so sorry—"

"You should be."

Neither Yelana's expression nor intonation changed, and yet those three flatly spoken words were enough to make Elsa freeze up in a way that she hadn't since she was eight years old. Since the last time she had been properly chastised by her parents.

"You're angry," she said quietly.

"Hardly."

"I _am_ truly sorry, Yelana. I didn't mean to disturb the Forest again. You must have been worried when the mist returned—"

"I have known the Forest all my life, and the mist's protection for half that." Yelana's granite-grey eyes fixed on Elsa. "I fear neither. Don't apologise for that which you do not understand."

Elsa didn't know what to say, so she lowered her gaze and bit her lip. She heard Yelana leave the hut.

Bucky gazed up at her with huge, trusting brown eyes.

"You must be the only one I haven't managed to upset so far," Elsa murmured, fondling the reindeer's soft ears. "Shall we go and see what damage I've caused this time?"

She exited—and walked straight into Kjekk's backside. It nearly cost her a shattered ribcage.

"Kjekk, it's me! It's me." Elsa hastily seized his reins.

The wild fear in Kjekk's eyes receded as he took her in. Then he was all over her, thrusting his head into her hands and hair and snorting out warm breaths that made her laugh in spite of herself.

"Yes, hello to you, too. Did you appoint yourself my personal guard while I was resting?"

"He did," said Honeymaren, approaching with a woven basket on her hip. "It was quite annoying, actually. We had to distract him with an apple every time we wanted to check on you."

"Can't blame him for being overprotective." Ryder took the basket from Honeymaren and transferred it onto the back of the wagon. "You were already conked out when the Earth Giant brought you back down, so we thought you were, like, dead or—_ack!_"

Honeymaren had kicked her brother and sent him stumbling down to one knee. "Just say '_we were worried about you so it's good to see that you're okay',_ you tactless oaf."

"You didn't have to break my leg!"

"It was a nudge, crybaby!"

"Who are you calling a—"

"I'm sorry," Elsa said quickly, stepping between the siblings. "And thank you for taking care of me."

Pulling a face at his sister, Ryder grumbled, "That was all Yelana. She stormed off that way if you want to catch her."

"I would like to… but I think she's upset with me."

"It's hard to tell if Yelana is ever happy with anyone," Honeymaren pointed out.

The camp was too quiet. Elsa could tell that it was late afternoon, which meant dinner preparations and gatherings should be well under way. Yet, aside from Honeymaren and Ryder bickering, she saw only children and elders sitting quietly outside the huts, sorting the contents of large baskets into smaller ones.

"Where is everyone?" she asked hesitantly.

"Out working." Ryder clambered back onto the wagon. "Time's against us, so we need all able hands on deck. It's cold, but not cold enough that decay won't set it."

_Nineteen bodies on her ice._

Honeymaren seemed to sense her apprehension. "Just show her, Ryder."

Glancing at Elsa, he reached into the nearest basket and held out a lifeless whitefish.

_Lutefisk,_ Elsa thought automatically. Then it hit her.

"All of them? Every basket…?"

"Yep," Ryder confirmed, dropping the sample back into the basket. "Hundreds, maybe even thousands of dead fish all over the place. For obvious reasons." Then he hastily waved his hands in front of him. "N-Not that it's not your fault all the rivers and gullies dried up!"

"But it is," Elsa said softly. She could freeze the fish to last for months and distil her ice into drinkable water, but those were not adequate amends. And this was not the first time her carelessness had endangered others.

Honeymaren and Ryder glanced at each other. Then Ryder crouched down so he no longer towered over Elsa, and asked, very seriously, "Do you want chocolate?"

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Chocolate. You know—the sweet stuff that tastes like burnt bark?"

"I'm… not sure we're thinking of the same thing."

"Ignore him." Honeymaren rolled her eyes. "But we do have chocolate. The nice ones you like, with the gooey stuff inside it? Salted something?"

"Salted caramel," Elsa said. "How did you know?"

Ryder pulled out a familiar box from his pack. "We were given a very specific protocol to follow if you ever looked like you needed cheering up. _Do_ you need cheering up?"

Smiling to herself, Elsa shook her head. "Not anymore."

"We're doing it anyway." Honeymaren hopped onto the wagon and sat with her legs dangling over the edge. Ryder joined her, leaving a space for Elsa between them. They both looked at her expectantly.

"Really?"

"Don't make us say it," Honeymaren warned.

Ryder cleared his throat. "_Cuddle close…_"

"Oh God," Elsa laughed. "Please stop."

"_Scoooooch in._"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

The siblings shared a hi-five.

Passing the chocolates between them, Elsa recounted the boats, the refugees, the freezing of the fjord. Unlike Anna, though, Honeymaren and Ryder weren't fazed when she described the rift it had created between her and the other spirits.

"Honestly, the real shocker isn't that the Nokk didn't come to you—it's that it even likes you in the first place. Which doesn't mean you're, you know, _unlikeable_; it just dislikes everyone. Bit like Yelana, really." Ryder bit into a shell-shaped chocolate. "Huh. Now this is like bark, but with a glob of sap inside."

"My brother is a termite," Honeymaren sighed. "He's right, though. Our people live in harmony with the spirits, but respect and fear go hand in hand—especially when it comes to the Nokk. It rarely materialised to us, but we were all raised on the same cautionary tale: never try to ride the Nokk."

"You won't be able to get off and it'll jump into water to drown you," Ryder supplied genially.

"But what the Nokk is doing now is quite strange. The water sustained us even when the spirits were enraged by what your grandfather had done, and that was far worse than you using your powers to save people's lives. Now we can barely find drinking water, and even if the rivers replenished over time, the fish are all gone."

Elsa hung her head. "I don't understand either, and I'm sorry. All I know is the Nokk was frustrated with me for interfering with the course of nature. The other spirits withdrew from me, too, so they must feel the same way about it."

Ryder deliberated over his next chocolate. "I dunno about that. They seemed pretty happy to see you yesterday."

_Yesterday._

Suddenly, the pieces Elsa had previously been too addled to connect rushed into place. "Did you say there was no sign of the mist when you left for Arendelle?"

"Of course. Otherwise we would have gone straight to you."

Honeymaren and Ryder had arrived the morning after. That night, by the fireplace with Anna and Kristoff, Elsa had still been connected to the spirits. She'd fallen asleep with the Nokk's displeasure chafing against her subconsciousness; yet by the time she'd woken up, there had been nothing at all, from all four spirits. She had assumed it meant they would continue alienating her until she sought forgiveness.

But Ryder was right—they had come to her as soon as she had returned to the Forest. Urgently.

_Not anger. Fear._

"The spirits put up the mist to _protect_ me. That's why I stopped sensing them."

"Protect you from what, though?"

The pain. It had struck her down only after she had passed through the mist. It was a pain Bruni, Gale, and the Earth Giants had understood.

A pain the Nokk had experienced first-hand.

A chill shot up her spine. Elsa shut her eyes and called desperately into the void. For the second time, no hoofbeats answered… but this time, she didn't even get an angry snort. This time, she didn't think the Nokk heard her at all.

The box of chocolates slid off Elsa's lap and fell to the ground.

"The Nokk isn't simply hiding from me," she whispered in anguish. "It's _gone_."

OoOoO

"Oh, shucks," Anna muttered.

The worst part wasn't that her hand was stuck—it was that her hand was stuck because she'd missed.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty."

"Thank God you're back, Mona—can you help me… oh! Councillor Belland. Hi." Anna hid her hand behind her back, then belatedly realised that it only drew attention to the child's artwork glued to it. "Picking up Dagny? I think she's playing with her friends in the yard."

Councillor Belland stepped into the classroom. Everything from his impeccable attire to his dignified age made him look out of place within the explosively colourful walls. "Yes, I found her navigating the seven seas. I was told the captain cannot abandon her ship, and so I must wait until the voyage has ended."

Anna nodded sagely. "Oh, definitely. A captain can't ever abandon ship, period."

"An admirable yet ambitious statement, ma'am."

Anna hated that she couldn't fidget with her hands. "Would you like to sit while you wait? Let me get you a proper chair; these kiddy ones aren't good for your leg."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"No worries." Only when Anna sat back down did she notice that offering Belland the teacher's stool had resulted in her being laughably dwarfed in the low, children-sized stools. Was that somehow unqueenly, too?

An awkward silence descended.

It wasn't that Anna disliked Councillor Belland, or was intimidated by him… well, fine, maybe a little. It was just that she didn't really know him. Her individual meetings with Councillors Roys and Davidsen were always chatty, and while Fisker tried too hard to please her, Anna could at least tell what he was thinking.

Councillor Belland, though, was an anomaly; an eerily competent anomaly who performed his duties without question or error, and brought to mind an eagle. Sometimes Anna forgot that he was in the room at all. When she inevitably remembered, though, it was hard to shake off the feeling that Belland was silently judging her every move, waiting for her to make a big mistake.

She wasn't being fair. Right now, he was just a man waiting to take his granddaughter home from school.

"I have actually been waiting for a chance to speak with you, ma'am," he told her.

Darn it.

"Sorry, I hope you didn't wander around the castle looking for me. I just saw a free slot in my schedule and thought it would be nice to pop into the village. I know I'm supposed to be back by now, but the kids were doing arts and craft and I couldn't help myself."

Councillor Belland didn't need to know that Anna had created that free slot by getting up at the crack of dawn (the screaming clock of Oaken's own invention had only succeeded in waking Kristoff, who had in turn groggily carried her over to the dressing table before crawling back into bed himself). Any staff or ministers hoping to catch her between appointments had needed to deliver their news while jogging alongside her. She'd even asked Gerda to offer coffee to all the subjects waiting to petition her in court in the hopes that they would talk faster when they reached the front of the line.

As soon as she had completed her duties for the day, Anna had sprinted to her room, thrown on her riding gear, and had been halfway down the trellis on the south wall—her personal shortcut to the stables—before she remembered that Kjekk was with Elsa.

_Break this if you need me,_ Elsa had said about the bracelet, which was reassuring and all—but how on earth was Anna supposed to know when _Elsa_ needed her? Did the message mean '_I'm okay and know exactly what I'm doing; don't worry' _or '_There's something really wrong with the water spirit and I can't do this without you'_?

A bridge had two sides, but sometimes Anna couldn't tell when she was allowed to cross it.

"Your Majesty?"

She realised she had been staring vacuously at Councillor Belland. "I'm so sorry; I completely zoned out. What did you just say?"

"You appear to have a sheet of paper glued to your hand."

Anna coughed. "About that… Councillor Roys and the teachers are in a meeting, you see, so I figured I'd help them finish mounting the children's artwork onto cardboard so we can hang it on the walls. But then I saw a mosquito! On the table! So I slapped it and… the good news is, this new glue we're importing from Vesterland is the real deal. Real sticky. The bad news is that the mosquito got away and I can't seem to get Sara's drawing off my hand without tearing it."

"I see," Belland replied shortly. "Might I offer my assistance?"

Of all the people who could have found her in this state. Anna reluctantly held out her hand.

Putting on his glasses, Belland respectfully took it and tugged at the artwork. It reminded Anna of Elsa fretting over the splinter, and she fought back a grin.

"It does appear to be quite stubborn. My apologies if this causes you any discomfort, ma'am."

"It's okay; don't worry about me. Just be careful of the drawing. Sara and I spent forever mixing that specific shade of blue for the water. Then Maja came over and boom—she had it in two seconds flat."

Belland gently held Anna's little finger down as he peeled back a corner. "I wasn't aware there was a new student or teacher."

"Oh, there isn't; today was a special lesson. We thought it'd be good for the children to understand what happened in the fjord the other day, so Kristoff and I asked if any of the refugees were willing to come down to the school and talk to the kids—not in detail, of course. Just so they know why there are suddenly so many new faces. It was even better than we'd hoped, because Maja turned it into an art lesson. She drew a storybook on the spot! At the end, she asked the kids to paint 'the coolest thing you've ever seen'. Guess what Dagny drew?"

Belland chuckled. "The sextant."

"Yes! And get this: she even drew it _to scale._"

The diagrams Oskar had shoved at her this morning had been to scale, too. He'd scampered off before she could ask if he wanted to visit the school with her, but he had waved back when she'd called "Your shoelaces are undone!" So she at least knew he hadn't been running away from her.

Belland had managed to free all of Anna's fingers. He was methodical and precise, unafraid to apply force where it was required. His hands weren't yet wrinkled with age, but Anna spotted calluses that resembled Mattias's more than Kristoff's. Her gaze wandered over to his cane.

"You wanted to talk to me about something, Councillor?"

"That is correct."

Anna waited. And waited. But Belland offered nothing else as he focused on her hand.

"Is it about the, um, terms I drafted in the agreement with Weselton?"

"Your Majesty is referring to the one requiring the Duke to apologise to Princess Elsa in a manner that will leave his toupee to the mercy of gravity?"

"Is that what it's called? A toupee? And yes—that one."

"I took some liberties in refining the choice of words, but was mindful to preserve their original meaning. The final draft is on your desk for your review."

"Thank you. Did Ha… Councillor Erling give his input?"

Belland nodded without looking up. "We both agree it is a mutually beneficial agreement. Weselton would be foolish to turn down such a generous sum of gold."

Anna smiled ruefully. "You can say it's reckless, you know. I won't get mad."

"You are the queen, which means that all of Arendelle's assets are at your disposal. You need not explain yourself to anyone."

"I know that, but between me jumping into the fjord and giving up my dowry, I understand why the council would think I'm…" Anna searched for the word. "… unconventional?"

"Leadership takes many forms, Your Majesty."

Anna wondered at the vague tone. Then Belland peeled away the final corner of the artwork, and her hand was free. "Oh my god, thank you. You are a star."

"It is my pleasure." Belland studied Sara's painting. "If I'm not mistaken, this figure appears to be Princess Elsa."

"It is! It's Elsa saving Arendelle from the flood." Anna leaned in and pointed at the splotch of white. "See those little squiggles? That's the Nokk. Isn't it cute?"

Belland looked over at the other paintings scattered on the classroom's floor. "I see quite a few children had the same idea."

"Of course; we did tell them to draw the coolest thing they've ever seen. What could possibly top the sight of Elsa charging down on a magical water horse and saving the kingdom in a dress like that? I'm still shattered that I didn't get to see it with my own eyes."

Belland turned to take in the classroom. "This is the new wing that was completed last week."

"Hard to believe, right? All those years in the making… Elsa put so much work into this."

"Does that not make Your Majesty wonder why the princess did not attend the opening ceremony?"

"She said she was tired and wanted to stay in." Anna paused. "Is something on your mind, Councillor?"

Belland's face gave nothing away, but there was a shift in his voice. "Queen Elsa was a good and kind ruler," he began. "Children illustrate and re-enact her heroics. Adults who have known a lifetime of natural ice now trust only in the strength and security of hers. Her reputation alone has sent wealthy nations tripping over themselves to earn Arendelle's favour; one might even argue it has preserved our borders. Only months ago, the people watched her stop a force of nature in its tracks in order to protect their homes." His gaze levelled on Anna. "Then she abdicated."

Of course it would come back to this. She should have known.

"And you think that was a mistake," Anna deduced.

"If I may ask, Your Majesty—has it ever occurred to you that your sister may have intended to set you up for failure?"

No longer fazed by the fact that he sat three heads taller than her, Anna raised her chin. "You know what, Councillor Belland? Why don't you do us both a favour and get to the point of what I think you're trying to say?"

"And what point does Your Majesty believe I am making?"

"That Elsa passed the throne to me just so she can steal it back later, after I've screwed up enough to prove she's the only one fit to rule Arendelle."

Finally, Belland smiled. It was a thin, ghostly smile; neither pleased nor mocking. _Hollow,_ Anna thought. He was entertaining her.

"Your sister is King Agnarr's rightful heir and has all the bearings of a monarch. Yet she demonstrated—on her coronation day, no less—that she is capable of freezing the entire kingdom in an everlasting winter, be it out of fear or malice. Had she been unable to bring her powers under control, Arendelle would have starved. Who can blame the citizenry for questioning whether Arendelle was truly safe in the hands of a queen whose capacity to do either great good or tremendous harm fluctuates with her emotions? Naturally, there was a faction that favoured _you_ on the Crocus Throne."

"Well then, they should have known better. I was happy as Elsa's right hand."

"Yet their doubt was a reality that Queen Elsa could not have changed, no matter how sincerely she worked to win back their trust. By delivering your coronation on her own terms, she displayed magnanimity and humility. After the kingdom sees you struggle in your new role, she will selflessly give up her 'freedom' and return to lead a populace whose loyalties are finally united under the one crown—the one once more sitting on her head."

Anna was silent for a long time. Then she stood up, picked her way through the arena of paintings drying on the classroom floor, and retrieved one.

Returning to Belland, she held it out to him. "Do you know what this is?"

He wiped his glasses before taking it. "It is a painting of a little girl; her back, specifically."

"Can you guess who that girl is?"

"I need not guess; I have watched her grow up. It is Princess Elsa."

"Who do you think drew it?"

Belland handed it back to her. "Her younger sister, I imagine."

Anna nodded and dabbed glue on the back of the painting, centring it on a sheet of cardboard. "It's one of my first memories: following her. It wasn't hard; she never left me behind, no matter how slow or annoying I was. When our parents took us out, she always held my hand. If I tripped, she'd be the first one to pick me up. If we fought, I'd only have to turn around and she'd be there, always close enough to make sure I was okay even though she was mad at me. Even when we were separated, she tried to protect me."

She smoothed down the edges, feeling the ridges of dried paint beneath her palms. "My sister is my hero. She always has been, and I don't think even a sword held to my neck could convince me otherwise, let alone a few fancy words. But you're smart enough to know that, aren't you, Councillor?"

Belland inclined his head. "You flatter me, Your Majesty."

"And I honestly can't decide if you're over- or underestimating me," Anna countered dryly. "Anyone could take one look at me and Elsa, and see that the dumbest way to incite civil war is to try and turn us against each other. Yet here you are, accusing my sister of treason and practically begging to be thrown in the dungeons." She crossed her arms. "So, one more time: get to the point, Councillor Belland."

The silence this time transcended awkwardness.

Finally, Belland removed his glasses. "I am impressed, Queen Anna. But you still have not properly answered my question: do you know why Princess Elsa did not make an appearance last week, when she is the one who singlehandedly reformed the education system and made this expansion possible?"

Anna's eyebrows pulled together. "I told you: she said she was…" Her voice trailed off.

She usually only fell for it when Elsa pretended to be fine when she wasn't. She'd never had to suspect the opposite.

"You're kidding me," Anna groaned. "Elsa, you _stinker._"

Belland's lips twitched. "I see Your Majesty understands."

"She wasn't tired. She wanted to come, but she didn't because she's an _idiot_ and thought it would take the spotlight off of me. Like that matters!"

"Perhaps not to you, ma'am. It matters a great deal to those who saw no reason for Queen Elsa to abdicate, and believe that you are merely a figurehead."

Anna narrowed her eyes. "Didn't we already establish that this sister rivalry thing would get you nowhere? Flipping it around won't change anything."

Belland smiled faintly. "The princess was right: you cannot see it."

"You talked to Elsa? When?"

"She may have asked me to guide you while she is away, and to teach you how to be an effective queen."

"That makes no sense. She's already doing that—"

"'_There are things Anna needs to learn, and I can't be the one to show her_,'" Belland recited. "Like the fact that the bond between the two of you becomes irrelevant if the people of Arendelle decide among themselves that you are unfit to rule."

Anna stared. "The people of Arendelle—_our_ people—would never—"

"Yet you cannot afford to be unprepared, ma'am. Just as you must be prepared to send Arendellian soldiers into war, and make the decision to sacrifice five thousand men so ten thousand can retreat. You must be prepared to pass down and bear witness to death sentences. As the protector of this kingdom, your command will one day end lives in order to preserve those of your people. You need to brace yourself for the reality that you will face problems that won't bend to your most powerful solution: self-sacrifice—for you are Queen of Arendelle, and while you are a captain who would never abandon her ship, you do not yet have the mental fortitude to fire upon another."

Belland paused, then added, "Princess Elsa has been avoiding me because we both had the foresight to see the good and the bad in her abdication. But she finally came to me because she lacks the heart to teach you these harsh realities herself."

Of course not. It would have ruined Elsa. The same way it was ruining Anna now, to understand the tears that had been in Elsa's eyes when she'd curtseyed and kissed her hand and whispered _My queen_. Because Elsa knew what it meant—what it took—to be the queen, and loathed herself for delivering her little sister straight into its maw. Father must have been the one to teach Elsa those lessons.

Why was it always so hard to do the right thing?

"She asked you to make me."

Belland's eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry?"

"It's something our father used to say. _A ruler is first born, then chosen; but the only way to be a truly good leader is to be made into one." _Anna looked up. "My parents gave birth to me, my sister chose me, and now you're here to make sure I earn it."

"Or this might all be a masquerade, and I am actually positioning myself as the devil on your shoulder."

"Is that the first lesson? Figuring out if I should trust you?"

"It may be." Belland reached for his cane and rose slowly to his feet. He still loomed over her, but for the first time since her coronation, Anna felt like they were on equal footing. "Princess Elsa _asked_ me for a favour, after all. Unless you demand my assistance, Your Majesty, it is within my right to refuse."

Anna's eyes widened. Then she let out a short laugh. "Oh no; I'm not falling for that one. If it takes an order to make you do something, then it means I definitely shouldn't trust you."

Belland's smile sharpened. "You are a quick study, ma'am."

"Uh huh. But…?"

"But I will need to see more."

More. Always more.

Anna squared her shoulders. "All right. Try me."

"Princess Elsa said that while she admits to being your shield, you have always been your own sword. I'd like to test that."

"I'm sorry… are you challenging me to a duel, Councillor Belland?"

He stared at her. Then he _laughed_.

"What?" Anna couldn't stop herself from giggling. "I mean, I wouldn't say no. Even if you obviously practice a whole lot more than I do. Oh, don't look so surprised." She raised her right hand, flexed the toughened skin between her thumb and forefinger, then gestured at Belland's hands, resting atop his cane. "Sword grip calluses."

Belland studied his own hand. "I was born during King Marius's reign. I have bled under King Runeard's banner. I counselled King Agnarr, then Queen Elsa. I wholeheartedly served each one, and yet I have grown old without truly pledging myself to any of them. Do you know why that is, Your Majesty?"

Slowly, Anna shook her head.

"Because they failed to surprise me. One of them did, eventually, but the same decree that impressed me also turned out to be her last."

"Trust me; no one was more surprised than the spare herself," Anna joked.

"She is not the spare."

"It's fine; I'm used to it."

"'_She is not the spare_,'" Belland repeated steadily, "'_because she did not inherit our father's throne. She inherited mine because she has always been _my _heir.'_ That is what Princess Elsa told me. Now it is your turn to prove it, Queen Anna."

The bracelet's chill was a warm whisper against her skin. Anna wondered what it would be like to see herself through Elsa's eyes. She wondered if this was her chance to find out.

"And how would you like me to do that, Councillor Belland?"

But his answer was not an answer at all: it was only two words. One name.

"Hakon Erling."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for your patience waiting for this chapter! It was awfully hard and felt dry to write thanks to the double whammy of me easing into my new job, and the fact that this is just one of those chapters. I'd hoped to answer some of the gazillion plot questions I keep dropping on you guys, but it didn't fit in the chapter. With the long chapters and constant tension, reading this fic is practically an act of masochism! I appreciate all of you! Re-reading your reviews and kind messages got me through the toughest parts of this chapter.


	7. A Little Sadder and Wiser

**The Next Unknown**

_7 – A Little Sadder and Wiser_

OoOoO

Only the Fifth Spirit could enter the River. Bruni knew that; and yet he remained with her until the crevice yawned before them, exhaling a chilly draught. He usually found the cold delightful, but today the River's breath made him shiver.

A more familiar coolness took over as Elsa retrieved him from her shoulder and shielded him with a cupped hand. Her smile was as dim as the colour of her eyes, reflecting the grey waters stretched out around them. "I'll be right back. You don't need to wait for me."

The Wind Spirit twirled through Elsa's hair, drawing out a rueful sigh.

"Of course I appreciate your help, Gale. But I can find my own way back to the beach if you'd rather see Anna. She misses you."

Bruni let out a gentle flare of warmth to draw her attention back to him.

Her expression softened. "It's okay… I promise I'll come back. I won't go too deep."

There had been a moment they had worried she would not only go too deep, but _too far._ But that had been before the Dark Sea became a picturesque mirror, nary a ripple or wave. Before the five of them once more became four.

Before Elsa returned with a stricken expression and whispered the truth Bruni had already known: "Ahtohallan has gone dark again."

OoOoO

The ship sailed for the rendezvous with its skeleton crew and cargo of nineteen others. Refugees piled silently into wagons. Villagers prepared their own transport. General Mattias rallied his men into escort formation.

Hakon Erling watched the queen's hair blaze like a solitary candle moving through the dark-clothed crowd, and thought: _too much._

"What a waste of a seaworthy ship," Fisker sighed. "Especially at a time like this."

"It is old and decommissioned," Roys offered, fingering a black necklace that Hakon could tell had been made in and imported from the Southern Isles before relations had soured. It was difficult to tell if she was making a show of empathy or insensitivity. "It would have been broken down for firewood, anyway."

"This isn't firewood, Mona. It's a pyre, and it is not our way or our people. This ceremony is showy enough for kings!"

"Incorrect. The south buries their royalty, to signify their importance in a land of scarce soil. This," Hakon nodded at the scene before them, "is a warrior's sendoff."

"And who among those nineteen was a warrior? The poor infant who didn't make it to his first year?"

"Harald," Roys said nervously.

"No, listen; I sympathise with the refugees. I truly do. But is no one else worried that those southerners seem to have our queen wrapped around their finger? There are a thousand reasons she should go about her day, yet all they need to do is draw up a whimsical plan, and Her Majesty immediately clears her schedule to make it happen."

"Fisker," Davidsen warned.

"And it's so _public_—half the village is preparing to attend the ceremony. Not only is it a disruption to our daily lives and economy, is it wise to send our people the message that—"

"That Anna doesn't care enough to give each one of them a sea burial?"

Fisker whipped around so fast that his ridiculous beard swayed. "Y-Your Highness! I did not see you there!"

"I figured that," Prince Kristoff said dryly, crossing his arms. His shoulders appeared particularly broad in his black suit. "You know she has an open door policy, right? Or did you want me to pass on the message?"

"No, no—just a senile old man uttering nonsense…"

"Oh, I'm sure you have plenty of sense, or she wouldn't listen to you guys so much. You've been worried about a grain shortage, right? It went straight to the top of her to-do list. And that problem about the refugees freeloading off the crown? She had me finding jobs for them first thing the next morning. Imagine my surprise when _everyone_ wanted an employee from the Southern Isles; they even paid wages in advance so the refugees could afford nice clothes and burial goods. Anna said nothing about compulsory attendance; yet here they are, preparing to hike through the mountains for the funeral."

Kristoff shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I'm thinking they might actually want to be there. It's as if they've learned a thing or two from watching Anna and Elsa treat people like people. Fancy that."

Fisker flushed, mumbled an excuse, and scurried off. The other councillors followed. Davidsen smacked Fisker on the back with enough force to make the thin man stumble.

Kristoff turned to Hakon. "Hi. Are you Felix?"

Hakon raised an eyebrow. "No, sir. Hakon Erling at your service."

"Oh, shoot. Where did I even get… never mind. Sorry. You're the one heading to Weselton tomorrow, right? Anna wants to talk to you about something."

"I see. Thank you for letting me know." Hakon offered a thin smile. "See you tomorrow, sir."

Kristoff's lips twitched. "Yeah. Bright and early."

It was hard to tell if she meant to make him wait, or if she simply couldn't refrain from talking to each person she passed. The queen was breathless by the time she made it to the edge of the crowd where Hakon stood waiting.

"Sorry," she gasped. "Write something down for me?"

There had been a time when this had been routine for them. A time when they would each scope out a side of a ballroom or dinner table, and Hakon would be on his third glass of red, mulling over his discoveries, before Anna tapped him on the shoulder, hissing, "Quick, write this down before I forget!"

They no longer attended galas together and made competitions out of unearthing the most valuable piece of gossip in the room. Yet he still carried that pen and notepad everywhere, and as Anna automatically turned around so he could use her back as a writing surface, he forgot that those times were now behind them.

Except Anna did not rattle off rumours of inheritance wars and lost shipments. "Okay, so there's a pothole near Market Square… Mr. and Mrs. Olsen think there are pigeons roosting in their chimney… someone's goat chewed up Rolf's garden but I can't remember if it's Rolf Jensen or Rolf Hansen…"

"Why on earth are you hearing petitions before a funeral?" Hakon muttered as his pen flew across the paper.

"Because Elsa made multitasking look easy, okay? Now write 'cereal' before I forget that, too."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"God, I don't know; we'll have to figure it out later."

"Please tell me you didn't call me over just to be your scribe."

"Of course not—oh, Oaken has a new invention he wants to bring up to the castle; something about pulleys?" Anna pulled her hair over her shoulder. She had left it down, and with her black attire, Hakon couldn't help recalling the fifteen-year-old girl who had stood alone beside her parents' empty graves six years ago. "I thought you'd have questions about the… message I sent you. This morning. I know it's, um, a last-minute change of plans."

The note was folded in his breast pocket, its hard corners pricking him as he wrote. "I found your message perfectly self-explanatory. It is my honour to travel with Prince Kristoff."

She scoffed. "Oh, please. We both know you hate company. You hated me."

"I seem to remember that being a reciprocal sentiment."

"I didn't _hate_ you. I just maybe wanted to throw a dictionary at your head every time I saw it."

"You did, once," he reminded.

"_I tripped,_" Anna insisted. Then she let out a sigh. "What changed, Hakon? What made you go back to hating me?"

He recapped the pen and slipped it back in his pocket. "I didn't hate you."

She turned around to face him, desperate eyes searching. "But you do now?"

He handed her the notepad. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty?"

"You can say it if you do. I wouldn't… I mean, it would hurt, but I'd understand if…" Anna bit her lip, then abruptly shook her head. "You know what? I _don't_ understand and I never will unless you talk to me. What did I ever do to you, Hakon? We were fine before Elsa and I went to the Enchanted Forest. Did I do something I forgot to apologise for? Do you think I shouldn't be queen? What is it?"

"What do you want me to say, Your Majesty? Since I have evidently lost your trust, I may as well tell you something you want to hear."

"And whose fault is that?" Anna's eyes seemed to burn. "You think I don't _want_ to trust you? You think I feel good about sending Kristoff to Weselton with you?"

He snorted. "You mean His Highness is not accompanying me to familiarise himself with the negotiation of state affairs? I hadn't suspected."

Anna threw up her hands. "What do you want _me_ to say, Hakon?"

"I dare not put words in a queen's mouth."

"Oh, that's rich. You don't think it's a little late for that when you've jumped at every opportunity to call me an idiot? If we're talking about proper etiquette, I should already have stripped you of your rank."

He regarded her steadily. "So why haven't you?"

There was a moment of stunned silence as Anna opened and closed her mouth. "Because," she said slowly, "you're the one who taught me never to give up on a negotiation until the odds are in my favour. And I need your silver tongue. I need you to go to Weselton and get us iron, grain, and crossbows. I need you to take Kristoff with you and bring him back safely."

Hakon tipped his chin up to prevent his glasses from sliding as he stared back at her. "Then you learned nothing at all. I taught you to never reveal your cards. Your needs become my leverage. I could use that against you."

"So why haven't you?" she asked back. When he said nothing, she plowed on. "We can't keep going on like this, Hakon… I need to be able to trust you. But for that to happen, you need to tell me what _you_ want." For a second, she looked like she wanted to reach out and take his hand. "Please?"

For a fraction of that second, he considered it.

Then a stableboy approached with Anna's horse, not noticing what he had interrupted until the mare delightedly trotted up to Anna and licked her across the face.

"Aww, Havski!" She waved a hand at the mortified stableboy. "Don't worry about it, Walter. Thanks for bringing her. Go have your lunch."

Stroking the horse's head, Anna looked back at Hakon. He had taken a step back and clasped both hands behind his back.

Her voice was small as she asked, "There might be a real war coming. Do we really have to be fighting each other, too?"

Hakon gazed into the face of the queen and saw a little girl who still believed in happy endings for all. A child who didn't understand that it was never about one war, _this war_, but every conflict that had come before them; drawing territories, shaping kingdoms, dividing men. They were collateral damage in history's battlefield. The real war was in their blood, and it cared nothing for their needs or wants.

He dipped his head. "Please have a safe trip through the mountains, Your Majesty."

Then he walked away without waiting for her permission because this, at least, was a battle he could control.

OoOoO

Westergaards were lions. They did not show weakness. But who was looking to see if he followed the rules?

Oskar hugged his legs tighter and pressed his brow into his knees, trying to focus on the breeze on his skin, the bright sunlight glowing behind his eyelids. But each time the wagon jolted, so did his heart.

"How long?" he mumbled eventually. The sound of his own thin, reedy voice only made it worse.

"Not long," came Emil's voice from his left. "I can see the water from here."

There was a shift in the rhythm of hoofbeats around him, and another familiar voice called, "Oskar? Hey, what's wrong?"

Why was her timing always so lousy?

"Your Majesty," Ragna said hurriedly. "It's nothing. He—the young master does not enjoy wagons."

"Why didn't you say so earlier? Do you want to ride with me? Havski is really steady, aren't you, girl? _Oh yes you are._"

Oskar didn't have the strength to say no.

The wagon rolled to a stop at the queen's request. Ragna and Emil helped him to his feet, and there she was—the queen who asked instead of ordered, insisted on riding her horse instead of sitting in a carriage, and always seemed to have an eye out for him. The queen who made no sense.

Grinning, Anna held her arms out. She had steered her horse close enough to the wagon's side that all he had to do was take a step. Towards her. "Come on. I've got you."

The queen who never seemed to tire of saying those three words to him.

Then a black horse bearing a man with a general's rank on his epaulets trotted down from the head of the procession. "The boy is welcome to ride with me, Your Majesty."

"It's okay. Oskar and I have rapport—don't we, buddy?"

"No, we don't." The nausea dropped away as he fixed the general with a flat look. "You want to search me? See if you can find the butter knife I'm planning to stab her with?"

"Oskar!" Ragna hissed.

"Thank you for the invitation," the general replied. "Don't mind if I do."

This time, it was Anna's head that snapped around incredulously. "Mattias!"

"I'll suffer no threat to your safety, ma'am. Butter knife or fork." Rising in his saddle, the general loomed higher than the surrounding mountains, his face as stern as their rocky surface. "Arms up, young man."

For a long moment, they stared each other down.

Oskar raised his arms.

The general regarded him, one thick eyebrow arched. Then he reached out and lifted Oskar out of the wagon, planting him on Anna's horse.

Oskar would have pitched off in shock if not for Anna's arms around him. "Gosh, Mattias—some warning would have been nice!" she admonished.

"Where's the fun in that?" The general chuckled as he settled back on his steed. "Remember, lad—in a real emergency, forget the knife and fork. Go for the frying pan and ladle."

He gave Oskar a mock two-fingered salute, then cantered back to the front of the line, shouting orders to continue the procession.

Oskar felt Ragna's eyes on him as the wagon trundled past.

"You really are something," Anna sighed as she helped him settle more comfortably on the saddle. "For a second there, I seriously thought you'd made Mattias angry. Not that I would have minded that, actually. I've never seen him get mad at anyone."

"Then he's as bad as you."

"Hmm? What was that?"

"You should take your safety more seriously. You're the queen."

"Did you know no Arendellian monarch has been successfully assassinated? It's actually so interesting. The first recorded attempt was on my great-great-great-I-lose-count-of-how-many-greats grandfather; he was visiting someone's farm and I kid you not, someone attacked him with _apples_—"

"This isn't a joke, Anna," Oskar scowled.

She fell silent. Then there was her warmth at his back and the weight of her head stacking on top of his. "Worried for me, are you?"

"No."

"I'll have you know I'm a very careful person."

"Uh huh. With a very heavy head. Get off."

"Oh, but it's _so_ heavy I can't hold it up without you."

The procession began moving again, and so did her horse.

"Hey," Anna said brightly, "do you want to be my little bodyguard?"

Oskar stiffened. "No."

"Fine. _Big _bodyguard. Your special power will be your all-powerful glare; it can melt metal—"

"I said _no_," he snapped.

Silence again. That would teach her.

Then she passed him the reins. "Here. Olaf calls this 'controlling what you can when things feel out of control'."

"I'm fine." But he took it because there was nothing else to do with his hands, and he didn't want Anna's arm around his waist to be the only thing grounding him to safety. To reality.

At least this horse was far calmer than the jumpy one he'd seen Anna's sister depart on the other day. Too bad it was also uncomfortable.

As his hips started to hurt, Anna asked amusedly, "You don't know how to ride, do you?"

"How would you know?"

"You're bouncing like the Easter bunny. Wanna learn how to post the trot? Of course you do. It'll be a little tricky since you can't reach the stirrups—oh, don't look at me like that; I know you're still growing. We'll find you a pony another day. Just rise a bit in the saddle…yep, that's it. It's okay, I won't let you fall. Now try to get a feel for Havski's movements; find the rhythm and—_oof._" His skull smacked into her chin.

"Forget it," Oskar grumbled.

Laughing, Anna rubbed his head. "Nah, you're not even half the disaster I was. Let's try that again, shall we?"

By the time they crested the last hill, sweat ran down Oskar's face and his legs were sore. Yet there was a strange satisfaction there, too.

Until the sea came into view. Then the guilt flooded in, because how could he dare to _forget_, even for a moment?

_The boats were exactly where they were supposed to be, but the tide wasn't. He was the smallest target. They all knew it but wouldn't say it, so he bolted out of the cover and across the beach. But he knew as soon as he pushed that he was too weak, always too weak; the boat was sliding into the water too slowly, and any moment now he'd be staring at a bloody arrowhead jutting out of his chest._

Anna's arms rose around him, her hands settling beside his on the reins. "You're getting the hang of it! Wanna go fast?"

_Then her arms were on either side of him; her familiar steadiness at his back, firm voice cutting over his furious protests, "We're doing this together. And when we get out of this, you and I will have a long chat about your stupid heroics."_

Oskar heard guards hastening to keep up, but the queen raised one hand over her shoulder and the scramble of hooves dropped off. It was just them and the horse and the open beach before them. And the single ship on the horizon.

It was nothing like the one in Oskar's drawings. He'd known it wouldn't be, which was why he hadn't held back. He'd even asked Kristoff to hunt down a ruler so he could emphasise the grandness of its scale. That ought to show the naïve queen not to go around making empty promises.

Only Anna hadn't grimaced when he'd shown her his plans. Instead, she'd swept her paperwork off the table to gawk at his drawings. _Are you sure you're twelve years old? _she'd kept asking him. Sick of the same question, Oskar had run off before she could get the idea to frame the damn thing. He'd entertained the queen. Done. Time to get on with nothing.

Except the next morning, so early that the sun hadn't finished rising, Anna had flounced into the guest room Oskar now shared with Emil. She'd roused him with a finger to her lips, eyes bright in the grey light, and forced him into an oversized sweatshirt that must have belonged to Kristoff. Then she'd led him out into the chilly courtyard and across the bridge into the village. Just as Oskar had wondered if she planned to throw him back into the fjord, Anna had steered him into a shipyard.

"I'm sorry it's so old and tiny," she'd said tentatively, watching him. "It's all we can spare right now. I know it's not… enough. Nothing ever will be. So if your people would rather stick to a burial than have your traditions misappropriated, that's totally fine. It's just, you know—here. For you. If you need it to get proper closure."

Havski slowed as they neared the water's edge. They watched the ship glide languidly through the water, getting into position.

_Shouts of alarm rang out from the castle. Sand flew in a storm as arrows rained down, and as the other boats scrambled to launch amidst cries of pain, she said, "Keep pushing. We're okay." And he prayed and pushed, and when the last boat finally slid into the water, they scrambled on and rowed and rowed._

Anna murmured. "Do you remember what I told you when we were in the fjord? You haven't lost all of her."

The leather reins bit into his palms of his clenched fists. "What do _you_ know about loss?"

She flinched. He felt it. He felt nothing.

_It wasn't until they were out on the open water, when he let himself believe that they had made it, that she slumped over him, breathing raggedly. Feathered shafts sticking out of her back._

"You don't know," Oskar hissed. "You don't know how _long_ it took, because stopping the bleeding didn't stop her from _dying_. You don't know what it's like to sit with her and talk to her and watch her be in pain, and just… _wait_ for it to happen. So don't expect me to be grateful that you saved my life because I'm not, okay? And don't say that you don't care," he snapped, "because that's _all you do_. I hate it. I hate this. I hate—"

The word stuck in his throat.

_Breaking waves, salt in the air, blood on his face and clothes and hands. None of it his. He was too angry to be horrified because she had broken the rules and now he had broken his oath to protect her, and he wanted to shout, _What were you saying about stupid heroics? _But it was his fault for being weak; his fault for getting attached; his fault for not being able to hold back the sob and collapsing into a bleeding, dying girl as she said, "Come on, crybaby. Patch me up. I'll be fine."_

_And even then, it was his fault for believing her._

Anna didn't stop him when he tossed the reins aside and leapt off the horse. Of course she wouldn't bother; there was nowhere to hide on the open beach. He could run to the ends of the earth, and it wouldn't bring him any closer to the past.

_It took days. She was lucid towards the end, which he didn't realise until he mumbled, "What am I supposed to do without you?" And she had opened her eyes and somehow found the strength to reach up and tousle his matted hair._

She didn't ask if he was okay, or tell him it was okay not to be. She didn't hug him. She said nothing at all. She sat down beside him, gazing out at the water. And when he wrote a word on the sand between them, she drew a smiling face in the 'o' of his _sorry._

"_Eat your vegetables," she told him in her regular no-nonsense voice; if he closed his eyes, he could see her on the other side of the dinner table, sternly pointing a fork at him. "Just… grow taller than me. Older. No more stupid heroics."_

She stood up, brushed herself off, and reached back to pull him to his feet as the rest of the procession arrived. The same way she had pulled him out of the water. "We'll do it together," she told him, once more. "Okay?"

"_Promise me, Oskar. Okay?"_

He bit his lip and nodded.

OoOoO

The bishop said the prayers and recited nineteen names. The ship's crew emptied the barrels on the deck, raised the anchor, and rowed back to the shore. The wind and current instantly snatched at the ship's sails, pulling it down the strait as Kristoff had predicted.

Oskar saw nothing but the ship. Not until it seemed to sail away too far, too quickly. Then he finally tore his eyes away to look for Emil; the only one of them who could shoot.

He'd drawn the bow, but couldn't take aim because his arm shook. His whole body shook. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Oskar didn't think it was from the pain of the flaming arrow searing his hand as he stood frozen, the fire swimming in his damp pupils.

The general—Mattias—hastily snatched the bow away from him. The arrow slipped free and sizzled out on the sand.

Emil sank to his knees and broke down completely, the back of his hand red and angry.

The ship continued drifting away.

Mattias looked back at Emil, then the ship.

Sofia wouldn't be standing uselessly because she was too weak to draw back an unmodified bow.

"I'll do it."

It had been subtle, but the ring of guards around the queen had tightened when Emil had received the bow. Now they parted for her as she stepped forward to touch Emil's trembling shoulder. She met Oskar's dazed stare and flashed a faint smile.

Then she looked directly at Mattias and repeated, "I'll do it."

There was no hesitation. He passed her the bow. "Your Majesty."

Finally snapping back into his body, Oskar stalked over to her. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

She tested the draw as she squinted into the distance. "Maybe, maybe not. If I miss, I'll keep trying."

Sofia wouldn't have missed.

"There won't be time for that. If the ship isn't already out of your range, it will be with the air resistance from that flaming cotton."

Anna stopped and blinked. "Are you sure you're twelve? How do you not know how to ride a horse, yet be an expert on the physics of archery?"

Oskar's mouth snapped shut. Then he growled, "I'm a Westergaard. What does it matter? You won't have time to keep trying. The ship will sail too far; let Mattias or Kristoff do it."

"Do not let Kristoff do it," Kristoff said as he approached with another arrow, its tip drenched in alcohol. "Kristoff would take out his own eye."

"And I love Kristoff's eyes, so it has to be me. Oh, would you look at that—the wind has stopped! The ship doesn't look like it's moving anymore."

"Don't be stupid. That's…" Oskar's voice trailed off when he noticed that the flame on Kristoff's torch stood unnaturally still, mellow and serene. "… impossible."

Over a hundred people were gathered on the beach, and not one of them made a move to stop the queen as she nocked the arrow. Even Emil's sobs had quietened in the background. They all watched her.

And she watched him, waiting.

"It doesn't have to be you," he told her.

"I know. But poor Emil needs a break. And we need to respect the tradition. You wrote it in your plans—don't say I didn't read it."

"_The lighting of the pyre is a test of marksmanship," Prince Gregory said, without a missing a beat in his drawing and shooting. Thudthudthud. "It is not a stage of glory. It is not an honour. It's a vow to protect those left behind by the dead. This duty typically falls on the king; the father of our nation." Thud. "This family is unfit to protect anyone. But you are different."_

No, he wasn't. _She_ was different.

"You're not our queen."

"No," Anna agreed, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "But I'm your friend."

_Show no weakness. Trust no one. Westergaards are lions, not mice._

She didn't miss. The arrow flew through the windless sky, arcing out of sight. A flicker on the ship followed swiftly by a dance as flames raced across the oil-slicked deck. Engulfing the bed of flowers.

Lowering the bow, Anna cupped a hand to her mouth and sang the haunting melody of a kulning.

The wind came alive around them. The fire grew. The ship started moving again; a smoking speck.

He would never see it again. He would never see her again. He would never have another reason for stupid heroics.

A fine line of scarlet flowed between Anna's left forefinger and thumb.

"You're bleeding," Oskar mumbled. That was what she got for not wearing a glove. For not wearing armour around a Westergaard.

"It's okay. It'll heal."

_Not this._

Not Sofia's wounds. Not the scar the arrow's fletchings would leave on Anna's hand.

Not the sob that finally wrenched free as he tipped into her open arms.

"You're okay, Oskar," she murmured thickly into his hair. "It'll heal."

That was what he got for breaking the rules.

OoOoO

"Well?"

Yelana didn't look up from her knitting, but she heard the yelp as Elsa tripped over the ice boat she had just stepped off. "Here I thought you were the coordinated one."

"I'm sorry to disappoint." Sitting down on the log beside her, Elsa rubbed her ankle. "Is that a scarf?"

Yelana grunted an affirmative.

A long silence.

"You're still angry with me," Elsa said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"You don't know what you're apologising for."

"I'm afraid not. Sor—" Elsa sheepishly caught herself.

Yelana exhaled through her nose. "You reminded me of her," she said shortly. "Another child who went missing when the mist came up around the Forest."

Elsa sat up straighter. "You knew our mother?"

"No. I only helped to raise the child she was before she became your mother."

"But—"

"What did you see in Ahtohallan?"

The excitement on Elsa's face instantly drained away as she winced.

Yelana understood. "So the river knows, but it will not show. Not without all the spirits."

The Fire Spirit poked his head out of the curtain of Elsa's hair to lick at a snowflake. Except Elsa, with her pensive gaze lost in the Dark Sea, didn't appear to be conjuring them for his pleasure. No—this was the snow that had fallen while Yelana had watched Elsa mumble and sweat in her sleep.

"Yelana, about the Nokk… do you know… is it…"

"I am an old woman and you are the bridge between man and nature. What do _you_ know, Fifth Spirit?"

Elsa lowered the Fire Spirit to the sand and watched him scamper after a hermit crab. "Something happened to the Nokk. I know it; I feel it. But I wasn't there—I wasn't _here._ When the Nokk stopped answering my call, I was wrapped up in myself; worried that the spirits were angry with me, when they were actually _afraid_ of me."

"Nonsense."

"I beg your pardon?"

"They are spirits of nature. Conduits for the elements. They have seen civilisations rise and fall. You are a mere human, arrogant in your belief that your mortal actions have the power to intimidate nature. You may be a spirit, child, but you are not that important. None of us are."

Elsa dropped her gaze down to her hands, as if they held all the wrong answers and the only right thing for her to do was sort through them before she spoke.

On the beach, the Fire Spirit stopped and turned to look back at her, as if she had called him.

"I understand what you are saying… but I still feel it. Even now, Bruni is afraid. If it's not me—"

"It is you."

"But you just said…"

Yelana began a new row on the scarf. "Honeymaren told me what happened in Arendelle. Where do you think you went wrong?"

Elsa hesitated. "I interfered with nature's course when I saved the drowning people. The Nokk was furious with me."

"Why would it be? Did it not help you stop the flood from washing away your kingdom?"

"This is… was… different."

"Again: why?"

Elsa fell silent once more. The Fire Spirit returned and sat on the sand, its head tilted as the two of them gazed at each other.

Her epiphany came out as a mortified whisper: "I didn't ask. I _assumed._ I only thought that I needed to do something—that the Nokk needed to do something. But it has never had to help; it chose to. I took that for granted and in my panic, I… commanded it."

Yelana nodded. "Part of the fault is mine. I didn't think you would make that mistake. I didn't tell you about Vuos."

"Vuos?" Elsa seemed to recognise the word. "'First'… was Vuos the first Fifth Spirit?"

"Far from it." Yelana tightened a stitch. "If the legend is to be believed, he is the reason your role exists."

Elsa's lips parted in question. Then she pressed them shut again and angled herself towards Yelana, her expression one of undivided attentiveness. Just like another younger, more rambunctious listener.

"Nature is a force both powerful and strange. Merciful and merciless, because it does not have a will to speak of. It does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints; it gives and it takes, and it is up to us to keep living anyway. Then, from the source of all magic, as old as the first glaciers, the spirits were born: air, fire, water, and earth.

"The spirits inspired both awe and fear—for nature now possessed the sentience to be appeased and enraged. The spirits had emotions akin to ours, yet without the threat of mortality tempering their existence. They just _were,_ and to our ancestors, that was too whimsical an explanation for beings of such power. To presume that the spirits were created to fulfil a specific role was to suggest that they existed in subservience to a higher power. Which begged the question: _whom do they serve?_ And so spawned tales of gods and heroes, messiahs and chosen ones.

"But Vuos; he was the first to ask that question and dare to believe that the answer could be _him._"

The Fire Spirit let out a displeased snort that flared skyward in flames.

Enraptured, Elsa's intent gaze didn't wander.

"Magic begets magic. Where there is creation, there is destruction. Even the most invincible of forces cannot exist without limits. Vuos fancied himself a god, so he harnessed an ancient sorcery and bound the spirits to his will. Their command over the elements became his to wield.

"It was in vain; their immortality soon consumed his spirit. Nature's fury tore Vuos apart. But not before the spirits heard his brother, Nuor, pleading for him to restore the harmony between humans and nature. Begging that his sinful brother's life be spared. And only Ahtohallan knew what had to be done. When Vuos the False God fell, Nuor the Fifth Spirit rose."

Yelana paused her knitting to glance up at Elsa. "Many generations of Fifth Spirits connect you to Nuor, child. But not all your predecessors could resist the allure of Vuos's path. Do you understand?"

Her face a mask of horror, Elsa turned towards the Fire Spirit. "You weren't afraid of me—you were afraid _for_ me. Worried that I would overstep my power and begin demanding yours. And then you would have had to… I'm sorry, Bruni. I'm so sorry. I didn't… I would never…"

The Fire Spirit scuttled up her arm and licked her face.

"We are the people of the sun," Yelana told her. "We are neither chosen nor blessed. We do not take for granted nature's grace, or demand its protection. We merely listen. But you must do more and less; as the Fifth Spirit, you have to maintain the balance. You must not lose sight of it."

"I already did." Elsa wrung her hands. "I lost it for one moment and lost the Nokk."

Yelana detected the raw edge in her voice. "Calm down, child."

"How can I? The last time I felt the Nokk, it was furious with me, Yelana. And it was right to be! How can I be calm when I can't apologise because it's _gone?_ There is not a single wave in the Dark Sea_. _The rivers have dried up. I can't sense the Nokk anywhere, and no one knows what happened. It's my job to protect the Forest, but when it was in trouble, I was the one who needed protection. The Nokk was in _pain_ and I didn't even know it. Now Ahtohallan won't—can't—show me the way. What if something happens to the others—"

Yelana tossed the unfinished scarf over Elsa's head, breaking her off mid-sentence. "Breathe."

Elsa's hands came up in surprise, but she didn't remove the scarf. A moment later, Yelana heard an exhale and a quiet, "Do you have chocolate hidden up your sleeve, too?"

"Do you have another fever? You're making no sense."

A soft laugh. "Sorry. You made me think of Anna. You sounded like her." Elsa pulled the scarf off her head and folded it, holding it back out.

Yelana waved a hand. "Keep it. Finish it. It's for you; all Northuldran children should have one."

Elsa looked down, and drew the scarf to her chest. "Thank you, Yelana," she said quietly. "I know I need to find out what happened to the Nokk and bring it back. I know I need to apologise. I just… don't know where to start."

"Whatever happened to the Water Spirit, you were not the cause. That does not mean you cannot be the solution."

At that moment, the surrounding breeze swirled with leaves. Elsa perked up as her hair flipped and blew into her face. "Gale," she breathed in audible relief. "How was she?"

The Wind Spirit deposited a folded paper boat in her lap. The Fire Spirit crept forward curiously, but Elsa did not unfold the note right away. She cradled the boat in her hands, running her fingertip across its folded edges, and somehow the simple act seemed to anchor her.

"Yelana? Why did Vuos seek power? Why was it not enough for him to be loved by Nuor?"

Yelana watched the Wind Spirit skim across the Dark Sea and attempt to coax a ripple of life from the water. "Only Ahtohallan knows."

"I had a feeling you would say that." Elsa stood up, her eyes now bright and determined. "But there is something Ahtohallan does not know—and I know where to find it."

* * *

A/N: This chapter was another tough one and I apologise if it shows. It was again 'just one of those chapters'. Between work and everything on the news lately, coupled with the fact that I've just spent way too long muddling through this chapter, I was ready to just drop this here despite its imperfections and get chugging on the next chapter. I will most likely come back later and put it through plastic surgery but for now, please accept this little (infuriating, rushed, barely-proofread) offering!

I wrote an icebros oneshot between this chapter and the last, because I couldn't get enough of writing the Kristoff braids Elsa's hair scene. Please check out Of Nowhere in Particular if you're interested!

P.S. A note on the sea burial: not gonna lie, this scene was almost scrapped because I was clearly inspired by Hollywood (actually, it was Game of Thrones) but then did research and found out that such 'Viking funerals' are historically inaccurate. Apparently burning a ship is expensive and, uh, messy because the fire doesn't burn hot enough to properly cremate. But it exists because Anna with a bow overrides all. That was honestly my thought process. Yes, I am an incredibly simple person.

P.P.S. Hamilton reference?!

P.P.P.S. You are appreciated and my gratitude is as large as this fic's obnoxious word count.


	8. Some Look for Trouble

**The Next Unknown**

_8 – Some Look for Trouble_

OoOoO

Elsa didn't know why she'd worried about getting lost when her memories were unshakeable, pulling her down the familiar terrain as distinctly as the first time she had visited the valley. _This bend, that creek. _She even had the niggling feeling that she was dismounting Kjekk in the same place her parents had left their horses all those years ago. Only this time, she didn't have her father helping her down; she could—had to—reach the ground on her own.

Kjekk nickered nervously.

"Don't be scared. It's safe here and the sun will be up soon. How about another apple?"

Twitching ears immediately perked up.

"You're definitely Anna's horse, aren't you?"

Last night, Yelana had thrust a sack of cured meats and fruit onto her, with her only parting words being, _Don't be like Iduna. Make sure you come back. _Then she'd retreated into her hut before Elsa had been able to thank her or make a promise.

_Go back _there _and come back _here, Anna had said.

Yet this was neither Arendelle nor Ahtohallan. This was the midpoint between her two homes, and Elsa had never come here alone before. Not without Anna and Kristoff. Not without her parents.

Where would they all be now, if she hadn't missed that night?

Leaving Kjekk crunching happily on an apple, Elsa stepped into the Valley of the Living Rock.

The trolls were asleep, so she tread quietly until she found the only moss-covered boulder she could recognise despite Kristoff's extensive lessons. "Pabbie?"

A long moment passed. Elsa wondered if she'd gotten it wrong and was foolishly talking to a non-sentient rock after all.

Then there was a gravelly shudder. "Ah, Elsa. You've come."

She crouched down with a smile as Pabbie shook himself out. "Good morning. I'm sorry to wake you."

"No, no. I was already awake. Mostly. I sensed the Earth Giants' movements, you see." Pabbie peered at her. "You, though, look far less well-rested. Shall we get Bulda to make you a stew?"

"No, thank you. I only rode through the night because I wanted to reach you before the auroras faded. The Earth Giants were kind enough to arrange shortcuts for me." Convincing Kjekk to cross them had been another matter, though.

"Never a dull moment with you, is there? Sit, Elsa. Yes, right there is fine; it's just a rock." Pabbie gestured, and Elsa placed her hand in his cool ones. "You have come seeking answers about the Water Spirit," he deduced.

"I couldn't see anything in Ahtohallan. It draws on all five spirits and the Nokk is… missing."

"Unable to access the past, you thought to seek the future. You have always been a wise one. But you must know by now, Elsa, that the future is a venture into the hypothetical. You will find no answers, only more questions."

She saw flashes of red in the dark sky, tearing into itself as she cowered in her father's arms. _Am I a monster?_

But there was also her mother smiling down at her, beckoning her homeward bound. There was her sister saying, _You always make everything better_.

She heard herself say, "I believe I can find the answers myself—if you'll show me the right questions to ask in search of them."

Pabbie smiled, as if that was already the correct answer. "Very well. Let me see what I can see."

He waved his hands across the sky. Almost immediately, a shimmering raven took flight, circling the moon.

Pabbie hummed thoughtfully. "I sense ancient magic at play. Sorcery. There is desperation. Ambition. Fear."

The lights pulled into a familiar form that made Elsa's chest ache. Rippling hooves and the flick of a liquid mane.

"A spirit enraged. And another—" A clash of ice. "—once more gone too deep."

A shiver shot up her spine and lodged in the space between her heart and lungs, stealing away her rush of hope. "You mean me."

"Questions, not answers," Pabbie reminded her, though his grey brow remained furrowed. "Choices await."

But could she still trust herself to make the right ones? Wasn't a part of her still frozen in the depths, holding the truth in one hand and her heart in the other?

Had Vuos been given a choice?

Then the lights shifted again. From the look on Pabbie's face, he hadn't expected it. "A kingdom in strife…"

An endless array of sails. Two women reaching for each other across an abyss.

"Sisters sundered…"

The strike of a sword. A figure on the floor, not rising.

Elsa's wide eyes met Pabbie's as the lights vanished.

"… and a bridge untethered," he finished softly.

"Please," she whispered hoarsely. "Please say that was me."

His hesitation hit her like a sinking stone. "Elsa… you know better than anyone that a bridge has two sides."

She ran.

OoOoO

"_I don't trust the horses."_

"Me neither, pal. But we're going by wagon and that's way below your pay grade. That's why I need you here, to look after Anna. She's already a lot safer since Kjekk isn't around to throw her… oh geez, I hope he hasn't thrown _Elsa._"

"_Elsa's good with horses."_

"Good point. She tamed the Nokk."

"_Who went missing."_

"Sven!" Kristoff said exasperatedly. "It's too early for pessimism."

In fact, it was too early for anything at all. Kristoff was used to setting off at dawn for ice-harvesting trips, but the overcast sky and heavy clouds made for a morose morning. Another reason not to look forward to this trip.

He tugged at his collar. "How do I look, Sven?"

"Ridiculously charming."

"Why thank you… wait, what?" Kristoff turned around just as Anna wrapped her arms around him, bed hair tickling his chin. "Oof. Someone's up early."

He felt her reach blindly around him to pat Sven. Her voice still sounded thick with sleep. "Only because someone couldn't keep his promise to say goodbye before he left."

"I haven't left yet. Someone needed her rest because she didn't sleep well last night."

"I did too."

"Did not."

Anna's head popped up. "Seriously? Again?"

He wished he could give her anything but the truth. "Again."

Last week, they had still been able to lie awake on the same pillow talking about their days. He'd play lazily with her hair while she chattered on, and her fingers would skip across his chest as if recreating the steps she'd walked that day, here and there.

Now, Kristoff couldn't remember the last time they had both gone to bed at the same time. _Warm it up for me,_ they'd say instead of _I'll wait for you_ or _Be there soon,_ because they both knew those were promises neither of them had the energy to keep anymore.

They both had shadows under their eyes, but only Anna's were puffy and swollen.

Her nose wrinkled. "But I don't remember anything."

Kristoff hid a grimace by kissing her brow. "Good. Heard anything from Elsa?"

"Well, I wrote to say she could release the ice in the dungeon because, you know… we don't need it anymore. And I don't think she had a pen with her, because she just sent me a hug."

"A hug?"

"Yeah! Gale gave me a big squeeze. Lots of snowflakes. I was in a meeting and gosh, you should have seen the councillors try to keep a straight face. Mattias and I cracked up afterwards."

"I feel sorry for them. Just when they got used to Elsa's powers, she came back with a horse made of water, and you started talking to thin air."

"Don't be silly. I definitely introduced Gale to them."

Kristoff tried to picture the councillors awkwardly bowing to the invisible Wind Spirit. "Since Gale's back, I hope that means Elsa isn't far behind. I don't like the thought of you sleeping alone."

"Mm. Me neither. Cold bed."

"Anna."

"Kristopher."

"You need to talk to Elsa."

"They're just dreams, silly. I don't even remember them." She stepped back to brush lint off his jacket. "Why are you wearing an ascot?"

"To look like Prince Kristoff."

"You _are_ Prince Kristoff." Anna sniffed him. "Oh my goodness, I just noticed—are you wearing cologne?" She reached up and tugged at his hair. "And _gel_. Oh, honey. You'll be in the carriage for a while and there will be time to freshen up before you see the duke. You don't need to make yourself uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable."

Sven head-butted him.

Anna raised an eyebrow.

Kristoff grumbled, "I figured looking the part would help me play the part. It's my first time representing Arendelle—representing _you_—without you or Elsa to clean up after me. I don't want to come off like a barbarian who kills wolves with my bare hands and eats their hearts."

"Um, that's awfully specific."

"According to Oskar, that's my reputation down south."

"Now that's a story I want to hear." Anna looked at him. "You know it's not too late to change your mind, right? I could send Olaf instead. He can read now and no one will think _he _kills wolves with his bare… branches. Actually, never mind; his hands are way sharper than they ought to be. I was carrying him the other day and nearly lost an eye when he suddenly pointed at a cat." Then she added more seriously, almost hopefully, "Or I could send Mattias."

"No, you can't. You need him here."

"I do need him here." She sighed. "Why is this so hard? I mean, I'm not trying to be suspicious of anyone—well, except Hakon, and that's only because he's asking for it. But it's like… back then, I thought Elsa only made me ambassador to give me something to do, but now I understand: it had to be me because she couldn't—_I_ can't—afford to trust everyone the same way. Not when Arendelle is on the line. I don't like that feeling, Kristoff. And I don't like that you're the only one I trust to keep an eye on Hakon right now. I'm sorry."

"Hey, come on." He raised her chin so their eyes could meet. "We've already had this talk. I signed up for _you, _and if you have to deal with this stuff, then so do I. But there is one thing I need to know."

Her lips twitched. "Yes, I love you, you wolf-killing barbarian."

She might be the queen and the law—but that smile on that face, and those words in her blissfully drowsy voice? Unfair.

Kristoff hated knowing what his question would do to that sunny expression. "Love you, too. But… what exactly do you want me to do with the Spelling bloke?"

Clouds rolled back onto Anna's face. "It's 'Erling'," she corrected in a defeated tone. "And hopefully, nothing. If he's really planning something, he wouldn't be giving it away by making such an obvious jerk of himself. He definitely won't appreciate you tagging along—he doesn't like anyone so don't take it personally—but he's been loyal to Arendelle way longer than he's been loyal to me or Elsa. I just think… if he's still the Hakon I know, he'd never do anything to put the kingdom in danger."

"And if he does?"

"You mean, if he sabotages the negotiations with Weselton? Or sends some sort of message to Caleb?"

Anna hoisted herself onto the low gate to Kjekk's empty stall, head lowered as her heels knocked against the wood. "Crazy how I have to think about these things now, huh? Elsa made everything look so easy." Then she cocked her head to one side in thought. "Actually, she made _some_ things look easy. Other stuff, she completely over-complicated. Like getting enough sleep, for starters."

Kristoff pointedly cleared his throat.

Ignoring him, Anna slanted forward to rest her head on his shoulder. "You know Petra, right? She was trapped in the Forest with Mattias?"

"Of course I know Petra. We play cat and mouse with her every time we sneak into the village for date night. Those damn senses of hers."

"I know, right? She's ridiculous. Mattias and I double-teamed her once, and she still gave us a whooping. Anyway, she and the other guards will only take orders from you, so you can rely on them to have your back if you run into any trouble. Not that I think Hakon is a threat or anything—"

"Whoa, hold up. You put _Petra_ on my guard detail?"

"What's with that reaction? I thought you liked Petra."

"I adore Petra, but that's not the point—Anna, she's part of your Queen's Guard."

"And? Elsa sent her _entire_ Guard with me each time I left Arendelle."

He couldn't keep the exasperation out of his voice. "That's different; Elsa can take care of herself."

Anna looked over her shoulder at Sven. "Can you believe this, Sven? He's saying I'm hopeless! To my face!"

"No, I'm not!" Kristoff turned around to face her. "I'm saying _I'm_ not hopeless and have been taking care of myself all my life, so Petra should stay with you. I already promised I'd be careful, didn't I?"

"You did. But sometimes it's not up to you." Anna reached for his hands and squeezed, speaking slowly. "Elsa put her best guards on me because she was the queen and I was her weakness. But now I'm the queen and—"

"I'm your weakness," Kristoff finished softly.

A wince. "I-I'm not saying you're a burden! It's just—you'd only be a target because of _me,_ so if something happened to you…"

He'd be an expensive ransom. Or, more likely, an unfortunate accident in a dark corridor because who would miss a mountain man from nowhere in particular?

But he would miss _out._ On waking up to find his wife's arms and legs thrown haphazardly across him, blankets on the floor. On people-watching with Elsa when they both ducked out of a crowded ballroom for a break. On sharing carrots with Sven and learning new words with Olaf. He'd miss out on growing old with the family he'd finally found, and the family he and Anna could have had together.

So he wrapped his arms around her, muffling the rest of her jumbled sentence against his jacket. "I get it. Petra comes with me this time."

"_Every_ time," she mumbled.

Kristoff rested his chin on her head and gently began untangling her bed hair. "You make it sound like I have wanderlust. Which I don't."

"There's a big chance you'll catch it, being Arendelle's official ambassador and all. You'll get to visit cool places and eat funny-looking foods we don't have."

He froze. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope! In France, they have this amazing dessert with a layer of melted sugar, and the chef told me to crack it so I took a big swing and kind of broke the plate but it still tasted divine—"

"No, no, rewind. To that bit about me being ambassador." Kristoff drew back, his stare dumbfounded. "Please tell me you're not being serious."

Anna smiled sheepishly. "You can say no if you really don't want to do it. But it's a little too late for this trip. You didn't think I'd send you all the way out there just to babysit one moody councillor, did you?"

Coughing, Kristoff turned to pat Sven.

Who traitorously used his antlers to spin him back towards Anna.

Her joking expression fell away as her mouth dropped open. "Wait, seriously? You thought you were just an errand boy? Kristoff!"

"It's fine!" he blurted. "I know I'm not much good at anything else. That's why I volunteered. Elsa would obviously have been the better choice but since she's got her own problems, I figured this was one thing I could definitely help you with… um… Anna? Honey?"

Her eyes were even redder now, and the dangerous part was that Kristoff couldn't tell if it meant she was upset, angry, or incredulous. Or what he was supposed to do if the answer was _all of the above._

"How could you—I can't even—" Anna sputtered. "Who did you _think_ you were, Kristoff?"

"Uhh… a no one who somehow became a someone?" Seeing her expression, he hastily amended, "His Royal Highness Prince Kristoff Bjorgman of Arendelle?"

"No! I mean, _yes_, but… oh, I can't believe you."

Kristoff couldn't look away; couldn't do anything except brace himself for the explosion of words he could see gathering behind that fierce gaze like a nebula of disappointment.

Except Anna just sighed, "You _dork_," and stepped lightly onto his polished shoes, fingers fluttering along the nape of his neck, making him shiver despite their warmth.

She was the queen in her rumpled nightgown and slippers. He was the ice harvester in clothes that cost more than a sled.

As he bent down to meet her halfway, head tipped to the left, always the left, Kristoff heard echoes of a night spent huddled on the orphanage's doorstep, dwarfed by adults who kept asking, _Who are you?_

They'd been asking for his name, but the familiar curve of Anna's smile against his lips asked for something entirely different.

_Who are you?_

"Yours," he whispered.

"Mm?"

"Nothing."

It was everything.

OoOoO

"See, what I don't get is why they can't see themselves the way I see them. It's like I'm seeing the real, capable Kristoff and Elsa, and they're off looking at a blurry photograph of themselves. Which is nuts, because _I'm_ the one who is always blurry in photos. It's actually a big problem; I let kids draw on the dud ones so I at least get something to stick up in the office instead of just wasting film. Turns out I look pretty cool with a moustache. What do you think?"

"I think you'd look dashing with a moustache, ma'am."

"Not _that,_ silly—Kristoff and Elsa!" Anna spun around to pull a face at Mattias. "And how many times do I have to remind you? Stop _ma'am_-ing me when it's just the two of us."

Mattias stopped walking and snapped into a crisp salute. "Yes ma'am! Please forgive this forgetful old soldier, ma'am!"

"Okay, now you're just doing it on purpose."

"Wouldn't dream of it, ma'am. Now please turn back around before you trip and leave me to explain how our queen fell off a cliff on my watch."

"Bold of you to assume that facing forward does anything for my coordination. And we're not at the cliffs yet. Almost, though." Anna flashed a teasing grin. "Hope you're not getting tired already, General."

It was hard to tell if his wheeze came from amusement or genuine breathlessness, because Mattias didn't have Elsa's dry smile or Kristoff's self-conscious chuckle. Anna's favourite thing about Mattias was the way he laughed generously and infectiously with all his being. "Hey now! I'll have you know I used to sprint up these hills when I was a boy. Fastest kid in the village."

"Only because I wasn't born yet."

"You'll have to try harder than that to goad me into chasing you. Also: branch."

Anna ducked without looking, still walking backwards up the worn trail. She now knew Arendelle's paths and bends so well that it felt a lifetime ago that she'd only known her kingdom through a window, and her sister through a door.

If she could go back in time, she would tell her younger self that Market Square was nothing like the view from the watchtowers. It was so much bigger yet also smaller because the streets bustled with _people_. People who never stopped smiling and showering her with free pastries and fruit and chocolate. _Her_ people.

If she could go back in time, she would understand that Elsa's door meant to _lock in,_ not _shut out,_ and maybe then it might have opened to her sooner.

If she could go back in time, she would hug their parents so tightly they wouldn't have been able to board that ship, and maybe then the four of them could have had conversations instead of secrets.

But if she did go back in time, she was afraid that she would blame their parents for everything.

"It's you."

Anna's boot caught on a root. "Ack! Sorry—what's me?"

_Fault. Her fault for asking to build a snowman that night._

Mattias steadied her with a look of amusement. "Kristoff and Elsa. I think you don't just see them differently; they're different around _you_. You bring out the best in them."

Anna's eyes narrowed. "I love you, Mattias. But if you're trying to say my husband and sister are anything less than amazing without me in the picture, I _will_ chase you up this hill swinging the biggest branch I can carry."

"And I'm sure you could pick up a whole tree if you put your mind to it. But I'm trying to say you have a tendency to bring out the best in _everyone_."

"Oh. In that case…" Anna slipped her arm through Mattias's. "You sound like my father. He used to tell me that, too."

"Did he now? You know, I've been wondering. What was Agnarr like as an adult?"

"Oh, he was _so _clumsy—worse than me, can you believe?"

"Very easily. Boy was incredible with his hands, but teaching him how to wield a sword? Absolute hazard."

"I know! Totally crushed my childhood dream to train with him and look cool together. I had to get my weapons training from the guards. Sometimes Mother watched and gave me archery tips. She never touched a bow herself, so I thought she'd learned it all from books. She taught me how to climb trees and hang from the branches. We had to do it while Father was in meetings, because otherwise he'd just stand below us and freak out. Oh, but he was really good at fixing things. He used to get so excited when I broke my bike."

"He was like that as a kid, too. Loved to read and learn. He'd take things apart to figure how they worked, then put them back together again."

"Maybe that's where Elsa gets it from. She's great at figuring out how things work."

"So now the question is: can Elsa tie her own shoelaces?"

"Shoelaces? I don't know; she's always in heels or flats… no, wait, she can! She used to lace up my boots for me when we were little. Are you saying Father couldn't? Seriously?"

"Seriously! He was awful with names and faces, too. It took him six months to stop calling me 'Bartholomew'. We were all worried he'd cause a diplomatic incident one day."

"Oh my God. That explains _so much._ Father kept heaps of notes in his pockets; sometimes he'd even write them on his arm. Maybe they were—"

"Names!" they both howled.

Mattias wiped tears from his eyes. "We should ask Elsa to confirm it. Ahtohallan knows everything about the past, right?"

Anna struggled to get her giggles under control. "I wish. She says she can't choose what it shows her, unless it's her own memories. If the memory belongs to someone else, they need to be there as well, or Ahtohallan apparently only shows her what it thinks she needs to know. Which isn't a lot now that we're getting along with the Northuldra. Besides, I don't think Elsa wants to dig too deeply into our parents' memories just yet."

"Ah, yes. Sometimes it's best to leave the past in the past."

It was. She knew that. But still… "What about my grandfather? What was he like?"

Mattias's head turned in surprise.

"Never mind," Anna said hastily. "Look—we're here!"

She skipped ahead towards the edge of the cliffs, greeted by the familiar sight of Arendelle sprawled below. She inhaled deeply. _Home._

Mattias drew up to her side.

Without looking away from the view, she said, "I used to think Arendelle was massive and that I'd get lost in the village if the gates ever opened. But now I know how tiny we are in the grand scheme of the world. If the Southern Isles attacked—if _any_ army seriously attacked us…"

"It's happened before. Your grandfather's forces were outnumbered each time, but he managed to defend Arendelle."

She sensed his gaze on her as he added, "King Runeard was a strong commander and a brilliant strategist."

"I know."

"What else do you want to know about him?"

_Would he have let me call him Grandpappy? Would he have taught me how to ride and fight? Would he have shared embarrassing stories about Papa over dinner? Would he have accepted Mama? Would he have loved Elsa?_

But she already knew the answers to those questions, didn't she?

"His tactics, duh! That's why we hiked out here, right? So you can just show me and save us both a few paper cuts from the writing and reading."

Mattias's gaze lingered on her a while longer. Then he cleared his throat and studied the fjord with her, its crystal waters studded with fishing boats and trading vessels sailing languidly into the harbour.

"Arendelle may be small, but we're blessed with a strong defensive position. We no longer have to worry about the Northuldra, and coming up from the south, King Caleb will hardly waste time circling around to march through the mountains. So we can reasonably rule out a northern approach. The only other land border we share is with Vesterland. Not only are we on good terms, the terrain between us is too rough to sustain an efficient supply line. We would still have to watch out for foot soldiers if Vesterland falls, but cannons and trebuchets wouldn't be able to get through."

"Those would be on the fleet," Anna deduced. "With the castle sitting on the fjord, we're in big trouble if we let them come within range."

"Exactly. That's why King Runeard's greatest successes came from using our environmental advantage to weaken ships before they could reach us. Spikes and boulders to shred hulls. Old ships sunk in the waters as a barricade. Archers to keep up the pressure. See those cliffs opposite us? They narrow further out, creating a funnel. With barrels of oil, some aim, and a lot of luck, we could send a few ships up in flames. And that bend there, where the passage opens up? There's room for an ambush. Chain shot to take down the masts, then swarm. Depending on the scale of their attack and the effectiveness of ours, they could be down to half their forces by the time they reach the harbour."

"That sounds great and all, but what if we're still outnumbered? Arendelle was smaller back then, but we have fewer soldiers now than in Runeard's time. Father ended the conscription when they realised the Northuldra were trapped in the Forest and couldn't attack."

"I'm aware."

"You're thinking it, aren't you?" Anna asked softly. "That we need to put swords and crossbows in everyone's hands."

Mattias sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. "We should at least teach them how to defend themselves."

"We can. We will. But unless Florian the baker touches a hammer and suddenly discovers he's Thor incarnate, our civilians are as good as fodder on the front lines. And I'm not going to put them there just so we _look_ stronger, when they could be safely evacuated instead. What will our soldiers have left to fight for if I've already sent their loved ones to certain death?"

"Anna, I'm not saying—"

"I know," she said helplessly. "I know, but I think _I_ need to say this, and I can't work it out. Because the people _are_ Arendelle. There's no point saving a bunch of buildings if no one is left to live in them. I know Elsa wanted Councillor Belland to teach me how to make tough decisions like these, but I just can't do it. And I don't think Elsa could do it, either. It worked for Runeard, but I don't _want_ it to work for us, and I just… I wish… urgh!"

Anna flopped down onto the grass.

After a moment, there was a muffled grunt as Mattias lowered himself down beside her. They gazed down at the peaceful streets in silence.

"You think I'm naïve, don't you?"

"That's not a bad thing."

"But I shouldn't be. Because Runeard wasn't. Caleb isn't. "

"Again, not a bad thing. You have something they don't, which means your soldiers also have something theirs don't."

Anna cracked a rueful grin. "Is it good looks?"

Mattias smiled back. "And belief. Did you know most soldiers fight to die? We look at the enemy and size up how many we can take down before our time runs out, because it's usually sooner rather than later. War is colossal and we are small; it's a tide that can't be fought. But you, Anna? You remind us every day that our lives mean something to you—that we fight for a queen who expects us to come home in one piece.

"If King Caleb's fleet sailed into the fjord now, they will see a helpless little kingdom with an army only a few hundred strong. What they won't see is that every single one of those few hundred soldiers will fight like they are indispensable, because they know that's what you think of them. When a pawn feels like a hero, they will do crazy, unpredictable things to stay alive. And they won't simply fight for survival; they will fight for _you_ because they trust you with their lives. That's what makes you dangerous, Anna. You are young and idealistic—but when your enemies make the mistake of underestimating you? Hell, you might just run them over with your little army of stubborn heroes."

Anna stared at him.

Mattias blinked, then looked chagrined. "I-I'm sorry, was that too dramatic? Halima says I can get carried away."

She shook her head with a grin. "_You're_ dramatic? Have you seen my sister? She makes ice palaces complete with _chandeliers_."

That got her a snort. "And she rides home on the Water Spirit itself. You got the gist of what I was saying, though, right? That you're doing great and no matter what happens, no one is going to say you could have done any better?"

"I got it. Thanks, Mattias."

"Good. Anything else bugging you?"

It hit Anna that she hadn't told him about the Nokk. Or Oskar. She should.

But when she opened her mouth, a yawn came out instead.

She hadn't exactly lied to Kristoff that morning; she didn't _remember_ her sleeplessness. But as she absently watched trading vessels glide across the water, she had to pinch herself to keep her leaden eyelids from falling shut.

She wondered if Kristoff and Hakon were getting along.

She wondered what Elsa was doing, and if she'd liked the sandwich.

She wondered if there was a way to be five years old again, lying on a picnic mat with her parents and sister, unperturbed by the future's unknowns.

_Wait._

Anna shot to her feet, staring down at the fjord.

Mattias's hand flew automatically to his sword. "What? Are we under attack?"

"I read the shipping manifests over breakfast," Anna blurted distractedly as she counted. _Two. Why were there two?_

"Is that it?" Mattias sounded relieved. "Err, good on you?"

"I usually forget but Kristoff left early so I was bored and… oh, what am I saying?"

_Blavenian flags. _Why did that send a tingle down her spine? Why did she feel like she was forgetting something? Why were there always more questions than answers?

She knew one thing, though.

"Those ships—they're not supposed to be here."

OoOoO

"Did you know that drinking hot cocoa two times a day improves your memory?"

"Don't care. Don't like chocolate. Stop following me around."

"I'm not following you, I'm accompanying you! Anna said we should run these errands together, remember? In case you get lost!"

"_You_ got us lost. Six times."

"Actually, I got us _side-tracked._ Semantic accuracy is very important, Oskar. Wasn't it so fun playing hide-and-seek with Hedda and her friends?"

"No."

"You looked like you were enjoying it. You were fantastic at hiding!"

"And you were horrible at it," Oskar deadpanned, unfolding the list. "Now zip it so I can figure out what this says."

_Gate… goof…_ How could a queen's handwriting be so atrocious?

Olaf creepily lifted his whole head up to see the list. "Ohhh, _goat_! We need to figure out whose goat got into Rolf's garden. But first we gotta find out which Rolf it is, because there are twenty-three Rolfs and Anna didn't write down which one."

"_What?_ You're insane."

"No, I'm Olaf! Come on—let's start with Rolf the dockworker!"

Scowling, Oskar shoved the list back into his pocket and went back to the pull-along wagon, which let out a teeth-grinding screech as its rickety wheels struggled over the cobblestones.

_This has been with me for a long time,_ Anna had said proudly. _I used to fill it up with all my dolls and take them on a tour of the castle. Now that I think about it, it's probably the only thing with wheels I haven't broken yet. So take care of it—oh, and look after Olaf, too!_

He was not a pageboy or a babysitter. But before he'd been able to give her a piece of his mind, she'd run off with the general, calling over her shoulder, _Don't forget we'll have a riding lesson before dinner!_

In the Southern Isles, nothing good came out of finding yourself on the king's agenda.

In the Southern Isles, he wouldn't be caught dead pulling a childish wagon laden with miscellaneous parcels collected from an illegible list, 'accompanied' by an irritably talkative snowman.

Scratchy twig fingers tugged at his hand. "Did you know warm hugs not only make you feel happier, but are scientifically proven to reduce stress and improve your immune system?"

Oskar rolled his eyes. "I don't need a hug. I'm not sad."

"Well, Anna gives really good hugs."

_You're okay, Oskar._

"I know."

"My favourite hug was the one she gave me when Elsa died and I melted."

The wagon knocked into the back of Oskar's leg as he stopped abruptly. "She what? _You_ what?"

Olaf obliviously walked on. "Oh, you know how it is. We went on a big adventure because Elsa heard a voice calling to her, and we found out that the spirits of nature had trapped Mattias and the Northuldra in the Enchanted Forest for thirty-four years, and when we went to find out how to fix everything, Elsa sent me and Anna away because she thought it was too dangerous. So we ended up in this big cave and suddenly _whoosh!_ Elsa sent us a message with the truth and Anna figured out we had to break the dam, but then I started flurrying and that meant Elsa wasn't okay, and the last thing I remembered was Anna holding on tight to me. And then a bunch of important things happened, but all that matters is that Elsa and I are alive again!"

Olaf spun around with an indulgent smile. "Any questions?"

Oskar groped for logic and words. "Her sister died? And came back to life?"

"Technically, she _unfroze_ because she froze when she went too deep. It's all about the semantics, remember?"

"And Anna knew her sister was dead because you died, too? In her arms?"

"Pretty much!"

_What do _you _know about loss?_ he'd shouted at her.

"There's Rolf! Hello! Would you know anything about a goat?"

Still frowning, Oskar looked up to see that two large merchant ships had pulled in, overshadowing most of the dock. And his heart halted.

Olaf was waving at a man in overalls, who was holding a clipboard and talking to someone who had disembarked from the first ship. Someone who stood tall and thin in a crisp suit. Hooked nose. Auburn hair.

_Prince Gregory?_

But it wasn't.

He grabbed Olaf before he could call out to Rolf again. Ducking behind a crate, he clamped a hand over the snowman's indignant protests and finger to his lips as he strained to listen.

The sound of rustling papers. "Looks like we were indeed expecting a shipment of spices, but I've got that scheduled for next week. I, uh, can't seem to find you on today's manifest, sir."

"Tell your queen," came the gravelly reply, "that Prince Niklas comes bearing gifts from King Gustav of Blavenia."

"Ooh, gifts!" Olaf whispered excitedly. "And his name is Niklas! Are we hiding from Santa Claus?"

"That's no saint," Oskar muttered. Because a lion could change his name, but it didn't mean he could masquerade as a mouse. "That's my uncle."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading (and waiting)! Hope we're all coping and staying healthy.

There were a couple of scrapped scenes for this chapter that I've put up on my tumblr as usual. There was an 'Anna's turn to call Kristoff out for doing an Elsa' snippet that I'm sad I had to cut out haha.

Thanks again for reading and being so kind in your reviews and messages! Wish me godspeed for the next chapter, because I am _so_ ready for a sister reunion.


	9. Here for a Reason

**The Next Unknown**

_9 – Here for a Reason_

OoOoO

"A _prince_?" Mattias repeated as he marched down the hallway.

Kai hurried alongside him, puffing. "That's what he said, yes. Prince Niklas of Blavenia."

"That's strange. Are you sure you didn't get any correspondence from Blavenia, ma'am?"

Nothing.

Mattias swivelled to find Anna following several paces behind. The rush back to the castle had left him buzzing with adrenaline and struggling to catch his breath. But Anna was unnaturally… sedate.

Her usual momentum had petered off into an arbitrary amble, her features scrunched up in thought. She walked past them without looking up. A few steps later, she stopped and cocked her head to one side. "I'm definitely forgetting something," she announced.

Mattias shared a look with Kai. "Is it the Blavenian prince waiting in the Great Hall?" he suggested.

"We certainly have kept him waiting," Kai added.

"Yes, but there's something _about_ him…" Anna resumed walking, tapping her chin. "Kai, have I met this Prince Niklas before?"

"I believe not, ma'am. Blavenia is a regular but distant trading partner, and rarely sends dignitaries to Arendelle. The last time was for Queen Elsa's coronation. Lord Friberg was their representative."

"Hmm, that's what I thought… but I swear there's something else." Anna let out an exasperated sigh. "Can you believe this? I just got Hakon out of my hair and now I actually _need_ him. He'd be able to tell me everything about this Prince Niklas right down to his allergies. Not that I need to know that… well, maybe. Kinda don't need a foreign prince going into anaphylactic shock on Arendellian soil right now. Or any time, actually. Oh god, I sound like a horrible human being. When did that start?"

Mattias knew that touching the queen broke protocol, but he couldn't help placing his hand on Anna's shoulder. "You'll handle this just fine, ma'am. Whatever brought this prince here, you'll make sure he leaves satisfied."

That got him an appreciative smile, but Anna still looked doubtful. "He'll be especially satisfied if I accidentally give him something he wants. I'm just scared that I'm missing something important. It _feels_ like I'm missing something important."

"That would make sense, ma'am, because you are."

Mattias and Anna both stared at Kai.

"I-I am?"

Kai smiled kindly. "Of course. You are missing Prince Kristoff and Princess Elsa. This is your first day in almost four years without either of them by your side. It's natural for you to feel unbalanced."

"What? First time? No, that can't be right… right?" Something visibly dawned on Anna's face. "Oh my god. You're right. I've travelled without them before, but one of them was always _here _and…"

"It doesn't mean you are alone." Kai's voice had become tender. "Not like before."

Something flickered behind Anna's eyes. Then it disappeared as she smiled back. "What are you talking about? You and Gerda never left me alone."

Kai bowed back, but Mattias noticed his smile remained wistful.

Anna squared her shoulders. "Alright," she said spiritedly. "Let's go meet this—"

A blur sprinted around the corner and barrelled straight into her.

Mattias yanked at his sword—_too slow, far too slow_. Then he saw a familiar-looking boy stumble backwards, dazed.

"Hey, Oskar. You okay there?" Anna reached out to rub the boy's head. "Where's the fire? And where's Olaf?"

"The ships," he panted. "At the docks, I saw—"

"Oh, I know all about that. They're from Blavenia. Apparently there's a prince on board so I'm off to meet him now."

"You can't! He's—"

"Aha!" Mattias said, snapping his fingers. "You're the kid who got sick on the wagon. The one who tried to assassinate our queen."

"What?" Kai said, alarmed.

Anna giggled. "Stop teasing him, Mattias. But I really have to run now, Oskar. I'll catch you later—"

"No! Anna, _listen to me_."

If anyone had dared to make demands of King Runeard, child or not, Mattias would have been ordered to throw them into the dungeon by now.

But Anna, in spite of her obvious bemusement, studied Oskar for a moment, then placed her hands on her knees and bent down to his eye-level. "Okay."

Oskar visibly hesitated, shooting wary looks at Mattias and Kai. "Chocolate," he blurted.

Anna blinked. "I thought you didn't like chocolate."

"No—yes—I mean… oh, come on! The _chocolates,_ Anna. Remember? You gave me thirteen of them. I picked the fifth one and now—those ships, it's the—"

"Sixth one," Anna breathed. "_That's_ what I forgot."

"_Yes._" Oskar sounded relieved. "So just… be careful, okay? Don't be so—you."

"'So _me'_?"

"You know what I mean."

"Not really, but I think I've got this." She straightened with a curious smile. "I can be someone else."

Mattias and Kai shared another clueless look. "Your Majesty?"

"Change of plans, gentlemen. I need you both to do something for me."

OoOoO

"Good afternoon, Your Highness."

The prince glanced sideways. He was taller than Belland, but twice as thin. Standing erect in his bespoke suit, not a wrinkle of excess fabric in sight, he gave Belland the impression of a long needle.

He wondered if the prince was just as sharp.

Bowing, he added, "Iver Belland, sir. I sit on the queen's privy council. Her Majesty sent me to convey her appreciation for your patience. She was occupied with state affairs and is on her way now."

"Hm." Prince Niklas turned back to the painting. "A kingdom this size, I wonder what there is to be occupied with."

"Arendelle may be small, but our queen prefers to oversee most matters personally."

"Noble of her" was the drawled response.

Belland hid a smile as he also faced the painting, planting his cane before him. The steward's message had been the closest thing to an order he had received so far, and now he was more than curious. "Have you visited Arendelle in the past, Prince Niklas?"

"No. Interesting kingdom. Over a decade of closed gates, and out of the blue there is talk of eternal winters and magical queens."

"Just the one magical queen, though she is no longer sovereign of Arendelle."

"So it's true, then. About the ice and snow." A pause. "There are rumours she is now capable of more. Something about so-called 'spirits of nature'. Might that be related to her sudden abdication?"

"Your Highness' interest surprises me. It is humbling that a nation as great as Blavenia considers our kingdom's affairs worthy of its attention."

There was a moment of silence as they both studied the painting.

"You did not answer my question, Councillor Belland."

"Why, I simply did not understand the nature of it, Prince Niklas. Would you care to elaborate?"

The guards snapped to attention as the doors opened. The portly steward stepped in to announce, "Queen Anna of Arendelle!"

Belland joined the prince at the centre of the hall, head bowed as the queen made her entrance.

And what an entrance it was.

When Belland had last seen the queen that morning, she had left on patrol with General Mattias in travel clothes and a messy braid. Now, she entered with hair bound in an immaculate bun, her signature pine-green dress complemented with a vivid Northuldran sash at her waist. Yet it was the trim black jacket, with its sleeves accentuated by golden wheat motifs, that caught Belland's eye. With heeled boots beating out the staccato of a purposeful stride, she suddenly appeared more commander than queen.

As Queen Anna reached them, Belland realised her appearance was not the only thing that had changed. "Prince Niklas. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." Her voice was smooth as glass. No—_ice._

The prince's face was no longer a mask of disinterest. He regarded the queen for a moment, then placed a gloved hand over his chest and inclined his head. "Queen Anna. The apologies are all mine for arriving unannounced. Thank you for finding time in your busy schedule."

"Of course." She gave him a gracious smile and then turned to Belland. "A word, Councillor?" Then she turned and continued towards the throne, clearly expecting that the prince would wait, and that Belland would follow.

He did. "I barely recognise you, ma'am," he murmured.

"Good," she whispered back. "That's the effect I'm going for. Had to practice Elsa's Snow Queen voice in front of the mirror. My god, these shoes are _so_ uncomfortable. Lend me your arm so I don't trip?"

Belland's lips curved as he complied. Neither of them broke stride. "I was told to keep Prince Niklas entertained, but now I believe Your Majesty had ulterior motives."

"Who, me? Balderdash." She smiled back innocently. "I just don't trust him, that's all."

"Yet you trust me?"

"Sure; Elsa does. She trusted you with _me_, and that's kind of a big deal."

"A favour I have not yet agreed to fulfil. It was shrewd of you to send Prince Kristoff with Erling, but you have yet to unpack the root of his behaviour."

"I'll work on that. But in the meantime, there's a weird prince right behind us and I'm short my sister, husband, _and_ minister of foreign relations. Which means no one is around to make sure I don't mess up."

"Do you intend to?"

"If I do, are you planning to stand and watch?"

They had reached the steps. Belland turned to face the queen. She was young. She was impulsive. She was the biggest work in progress he'd seen in his career.

"That sounds like a test, Your Majesty."

She released his arm, meeting his eyes with a roguish twinkle. "Even if it was, you'd be a hypocrite to call me out on it. Just saying."

Belland couldn't remember the last time he'd struggled so hard to suppress a laugh.

_Finally_, he thought as he watched the queen take her place on the throne. Runeard had been too forceful; his son too capable; his eldest granddaughter too responsible. They had all needed him. But though he had risen to each of their challenges, none of them had properly met his.

Finally, someone had figured out how to use him.

OoOoO

At least their voices were different.

"Gifts?" Councillor Belland was saying.

"Yes. Sent by my father-in-law, King Gustav, for missing Her Majesty's coronation."

He was skinnier, too. Freakishly so. Like a scarecrow.

"I only hope Her Majesty did not take offence at our absence."

_Focus, Anna._ Shifting on the uncomfortable throne—this was why she never used it—she met Niklas's eyes with a prim smile. "Not at all. It was quite a last-minute arrangement. A lot of other nations didn't attend."

Niklas's lips thinned as he smiled back. Aside from the auburn hair (too light) and moss green eyes (too dark), he looked nothing like his brother. If Oskar hadn't warned her, Anna didn't think she would have made the connection.

"I hope _I_ didn't offend you by keeping you waiting so long." _Talk slower. Don't ramble. Use big words. Full sentences_. "Your arrival was—" _No 'um's._ "—unanticipated."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Belland's eyebrows shoot up.

Tamping down a grimace—_don't let him read you_—Anna plowed on. "It's been months since my coronation so it's a surprise to see you—a pleasant one, of course."

"The apologies are all mine," Niklas replied, and Anna wondered how Elsa had said _'I don't dance'_ with a straight face when being queen was clearly one long, wordy waltz. Back and forth, daggers and spears. "Several vexing matters have fallen on my plate. When I finally found the time to take this trip, I was so keen to make good time that it slipped my mind to send word ahead."

_Of course it did._

"Totally understandable. It must be challenging for you with all that's happened in the Southern Isles. I'm so sorry about your father."

_There._ The slightest tick in Niklas's sharp jaw—the look of someone who had lost the element of surprise.

Then there was the look that Belland was giving her—the _you-forgot-to-mention-he's-a-Westergaard_ sort. Oops.

"Yes," Belland said slowly, narrowing his eyes at Anna while she smiled sheepishly back. "I had the honour of crossing paths with King Johan in my youth. He was a formidable man. It was a shock to learn of his passing."

Niklas cleared his throat, putting his hands behind his back. "Thank you. I am still coming to terms with it myself. Never in a million years would I have thought Caleb would murder our father when he was already in line to inherit the throne."

It slipped out. "Wait, what—I mean, I'm confused. I thought it was…"

Had Oskar lied to her?

"Yes?" Niklas prompted.

She felt Belland's gaze on her, too.

Anna settled back in the throne. "Sorry, the Southern Isles seems to be in chaos right now and there are just so many rumours. Some say King Johan fell sick; others claim it was an assassination by rivals… gosh, I can't even keep them straight. If you know the truth, Prince Niklas, I would love to hear it—if it's not too painful for you."

Niklas watched her for a moment too long. "Yes, of course. I was there when it happened. It was supposed to be a family hunting trip. At some point, we split up. My silly hound couldn't find the game I had shot down, so I was rooting around for it when I came across Caleb and our father standing by a cliff. My father had his eyes on a pheasant. He took the shot just as Caleb pushed him over the edge." A melancholic smile. "You know what haunts me? That my father actually hit that bird. It plummeted with him."

And Anna knew. She knew that Elsa thought she was a horrible liar because Anna really was dreadful at lying to her sister—but she used to be brilliant at lying _for_ her. Back when they used to play for so long that Elsa sometimes forgot to do her homework, Anna would leave her panicking sister and skip down to the library. She'd tug on their tutor's hand and remorsefully describe how she had seen a kitten on the stable roof yesterday and rushed back to draw it so she could show Papa, except she'd been so excited that she hadn't realised she had actually scribbled all over Elsa's homework, and Elsa was too nice to be mad at her but if she didn't have all those weird number problems finished today, it was all Anna's fault and she was very, very sorry.

She knew that it was all in the details. And she didn't know if Niklas knew that it had actually been the twins, Rudi and Runo, or if he cared for justice at all—she only knew, plastering a sympathetic smile on her face, that he was lying.

But he didn't know what she knew.

Eyes widening, Anna filled her voice with horror. "That's… I can't imagine what it must have been like, seeing something so dreadful. But it makes sense now. I don't know if you've heard, but we received a terrible letter from Caleb. With the Isles in civil war, he basically threatened to march on Arendelle if I didn't help to defend his claim to the throne. I haven't—of course I haven't—but it's still quite frightening."

Niklas nodded a little too quickly. A little too keenly. "I've heard he's sent similar threats across the continent. It's reckless and embarrassing. Caleb has a brilliant mind, but he's always been a bully and now it seems he's lost sense altogether. Our kingdom descended into chaos as soon as he took over; I barely made it back to Blavenia."

"If I may ask," Belland said, "what does King Gustav make of this?"

"When Estelle and I wed, he saw how much I cared for my people and allowed us to settle in the Isles. Our nations have always been close, so to see the Isles lost in its own war is devastating for my father-in-law. In fact, King Gustav believes that Caleb is a loose cannon and should be dealt with. Do you agree, Your Majesty?"

_Don't falter._ But she did. "He's your brother, though."

"Unfortunately. That is why I feel a moral duty to rid the world of his tyranny."

"But… shouldn't you try to help him?"

"Help him throw a bigger tantrum while blindly waging war on anyone who looks at him wrong?"

"No, I mean _help_ him. Talk to him. Show him how to be someone better. Isn't that what brothers do?"

"Caleb didn't just kill our father. If any of us could be considered close, then it would have been Caleb and Aksel. But Aksel's dead, too. The rest of us fled. If I were to approach Caleb expecting a joyful family reunion, Your Majesty, I'm afraid your optimism won't keep my head from rolling. There is no redeeming Caleb. We must stop him."

Anna didn't like the way Niklas looked straight at her when he spoke those words.

"Does King Gustav intend to send forces to take the Southern Isles off of Caleb?" Belland questioned.

"There is talk of it, yes. But no matter the numbers, the Southern Isles' army is a monolith. My father made sure if it. It would not be an easy campaign."

"Apparently one of your other brothers is fighting Caleb right now," Anna said hopefully. "It could be another rumour, but if you were to join forces—"

"With Gregory?" Niklas chuckled. "The fool's tangled himself in a doomed siege. They call him the Spear, but no matter how good he is, the castle is impregnable and he simply doesn't have the men. He won't hold out long enough for our reinforcements. It'll be the first and last battle he loses, but at least we can count on him to weaken Caleb's army for us. Even then, Blavenian soldiers will die. That is why King Gustav is still undecided."

There was something about his bitterness in that final statement. Something that niggled at Anna. The gifts. The timing. The Southern Isles prince standing before her. The family tree Elsa had drawn all those nights ago.

"Who would rule?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

Decorum fell away as Anna cast her mind back to that night in the study. Chocolates, paper, tactics. Oskar spattering ink over Elsa's flawless handwriting as he crossed out name after name. "You're King Johan's sixth son. Aksel was second. Lars has run off and apparently doesn't want any trouble. Gregory is fifth and could probably name himself king if he wins, but no one seems to think he will. And I'm assuming you wouldn't want Caleb's heir wearing the crown." She followed the string, tugged at the buried question. "So if Blavenia knocks Caleb off the throne, who would rule the Southern Isles?"

The look Niklas gave her was both impressed and jagged. "I see Hans told you a fair bit about our family, Queen Anna."

"All he told me was that three of his brothers pretended he was invisible for two years. My sister did the research. Didn't _two_ of you marry into the Blavenian royal family?" She tapped her temple. "Was it Sigurd? No, something shorter… hmm… Franz?"

Another twitch in the jaw.

"It's Franz, isn't it? If Gregory loses and Lars doesn't want the throne, Franz is next in line."

"If Blavenia liberates the Isles, King Gustav would have a say in that."

"_Ah,_" Belland said suddenly, nodding. "I recall now. King Gustav is blessed with three capable children. The prince is his rightful heir, but I hear the king dotes on his youngest daughter. Princess Margit has a place on his council and is among his most trusted of advisors. Perhaps she would also have an opinion on the future ruler of the Southern Isles."

"Then that's perfect," Anna chimed in. "She'd have lots of wonderful things to say about Franz. He's her husband, right?"

"None of that makes Franz the natural choice!" Niklas snapped.

His words echoed down the cavernous hall.

Anna leaned forward. "Prince Niklas? Your gifts _are_ for my coronation, aren't they?"

He took a moment to adjust his jacket. "Of course, Your Majesty." His voice now sounded hollow.

Anna looked at Belland to find him already watching her. He nodded ever so slightly. Was she on the right track?

"So they're definitely not, say, a bribe?"

Niklas's eyes flickered to hers. "Pray tell. Whatever would I be bribing you for?"

"Caleb wants Arendelle's support to defend himself; you want it so you can go back to King Gustav and prove yourself more useful than Franz. Blackmail or bribery, you're both after the same thing. Does that sound about right?"

A long moment passed.

Niklas's smile didn't reach his eyes, but it did broaden to reveal teeth. "I resent that Your Majesty would compare me to Caleb. He is careless and didn't do his research. Arendelle is a… quaint kingdom, to say the least, and Blavenia's ties run strong among closer, more powerful nations. Hypothetically speaking, it wouldn't make sense for me to travel so far to recruit a measly few hundred men, would it?"

He looked at her then. And Anna hated that she _understood._

She shot to her feet, fists clenched. "_No._"

Niklas shrugged, his composure returning with a predator's gleam. "She has the power to end wars. Save lives. _Change_ lives. Did you really think the world would not come looking? From your reaction, I must be the first. But I won't be the last. Those who come after me might not ask at all."

_It's fine, she's not here, she's safe, I won't let anything happen to her. _"My sister is not a _weapon_."

Niklas shook his head. And, in a tone so patient it was almost gentle—"Hans said you were naive."

It snatched the air and words from her lips. _Curtains snapped shut. Fire snuffed out. The door_—

The doors burst open.

"_Anna!_"

OoOoO

"_Elsa?_" Her sister stood in front of the throne, eyes wide, mouth agape. Face pale. "What are you doing here?"

_She's okay._ Elsa nearly sank to the ground.

She'd seen the ships in the harbour and almost ridden Kjekk straight into the castle. Kai had rushed out to meet her with a jumble of words—_unannounced, Blavenia, gifts_. But only one had properly registered: _Westergaard._

"Ah, perfect timing," said a man's dry voice. "It's an honour to finally meet you, Princess Elsa."

He bowed to her with the same hand over his chest, the same beguiling smile, in the same hall where she had once tried to keep his youngest brother from marrying her sister. "Prince Niklas of Blavenia." _Formerly of the Southern Isles._

Ingrained etiquette had Elsa bowing back. Her eyes darted to his waist as she straightened. _No sword_.

She was still short on breath, but she knew how to conceal. "You've come a long way, Prince Niklas. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

He opened his mouth, but Anna rushed down from the podium, blurting, "He was just leaving!"

Elsa didn't have the chance to properly admire Anna's new attire before her sister planted herself between her and Niklas. It made her blink in surprise.

Then Anna discreetly reached back with one hand and, taking it, Elsa couldn't tell who squeezed back the hardest.

_It's alright, I'm here now, she's safe, I won't let anything happen to her._

"I'm sorry you didn't get what you came for," Anna told Niklas in an unexpectedly hard voice. "Thank you for the gifts, though."

"Actually, I'm afraid I must withdraw them. Along with the favours Blavenia would have promised Arendelle had our discussion been more… fruitful."

"That's fine, you can take—"

"You will leave them, Prince Niklas."

Elsa hadn't noticed Councillor Belland. Now, he stepped forward, his cane striking the floor. It felt a lifetime had passed since she had knocked on his door, when she'd left Arendelle not knowing if he would help Anna. But as he respectfully inclined his head towards her and she nodded back, Elsa hoped he could read the gratitude in her eyes.

Drawing level with Niklas, Belland offered a cursory smile. "Please correct me if I'm wrong, Your Highness, but King Gustav is quite the believer in fanfare, is he not?"

Niklas's face pinched. "And what is the relevance here, exactly?"

"You see, we were only so under-prepared for your arrival because you arrived on merchant ships. We thought it was merely an unscheduled shipment, but when you sought an audience with Queen Anna, declaring that you had brought gifts… well. I could not help thinking it was uncharacteristic of good King Gustav to send an envoy with anything less than a longboat positively billowing in Blavenia's colours. Not to mention that Her Majesty had already received a letter from the king at the time of her coronation, where there were no comments of further congratulations. Now I doubt his hand in this amateur's gamble at all."

Belland folded his hands over the top of his cane and calmly regarded Niklas. "You are here without the king's approval, aren't you?"

The silence dragged out.

"What difference does it make to you?" Niklas's narrowed gaze knifed towards Elsa. "The facts remain the same."

"So does my answer," Anna replied, gripping Elsa's hand even tighter.

Belland chuckled. "My dear prince, you misunderstand me. It makes no difference to us at all. We are but a _quaint_ kingdom, after all. But it would be terribly insincere to accept such a generous donation of Blavenian goods without paying our respects to the king. Isn't that so, Your Majesty?"

Elsa saw Anna blink. Then her face lit up with understanding. "Oh, absolutely! I must write a letter of thanks to King Gustav. Don't worry, Prince Niklas, I'll make sure to mention how charmed I was by your _revolutionary_ ideas and—"

"No need," Niklas interrupted acerbically, rage simmering behind his eyes. "I understand. I'll tell the crew to unload the goods."

Anna nodded enthusiastically. "And I'll tell my general to dismiss the perimeter. I didn't want to risk accidental damage to your ships. Or any of your people getting lost in town."

Elsa didn't understand the conversation, but the look Niklas shot Anna made her fingers twitch with magic. She was glad to see him stalk towards the exit.

Before he reached it though, Niklas spun back on his heels. His gaze strafed across the hall. "Snow Queen."

She had grown used to hearing it from the children, laughing and singing rhymes Kristoff had helped them compose on his lute. Coming from Niklas Westergaard's mouth, it sounded like a challenge.

Arching an eyebrow, Elsa replied, "Yes?"

Anna tugged her hand urgently.

"I've heard a lot about you. Since I'm apparently leaving empty-handed, I wonder if this trip might be salvaged with a demonstration of your… talents."

"Elsa, don't. Please, just let it go."

Now she was certain: he had threatened Anna.

"Please," the prince said. "Humour me."

_Protect her._

"It's alright," she murmured.

"_Elsa._"

She strode forward, leaving her sister's hissed pleas behind.

Niklas's lips twitched. "They say you are stronger than a hundred men."

"And how many women?" she asked idly.

Niklas blinked. And let out a surprised shout as ice cascaded beneath his feet, spilling across the hardwood floor.

The doors blasted open at the end of the hall.

"Will that suffice, Prince Niklas?" Elsa asked politely.

Lying stunned on his backside, Niklas stared at her. Then he ignored her extended hand and struggled to his feet, slipping and sliding, until Elsa thawed the ice with a tap of her foot.

"Don't forget," he told Anna, brushing himself off. "One day, the world will not ask."

Then he was gone.

Anna crashed into her from behind. "Elsa! Oh, thank goodness. Are you okay?"

At last, the icy claws around her heart retracted. Elsa turned so she could wrap her arms around Anna. "I'm fine. What about you? Are you okay?"

"I think so?"

"Are you sure?" _A bridge untethered._ "You're not hurt? Anywhere? What was Niklas talking about?"

"Oh my god, that reminds me." Anna pulled back, gripping Elsa's arms with a stern look. "What were you thinking? I thought he was going to, I dunno, take you hostage and drag you away with him!"

"Why would he… why would _you_ meet with someone like that? You knew he was a Westergaard. With all that's happening, he couldn't have come for anything good."

"Exactly. What are you doing back already? It was the worst timing—"

"I was scared something would happen. Pabbie showed me a vision—"

"—and then you let him bait you into using your powers—"

"—there were ships and you were hurt—"

"—so you really need to leave, like, right now—"

Elsa stopped, chest heaving. "I'm sorry, what?"

Anna was also breathing hard, her face painted with desperation. "You need to go back to the Enchanted Forest. At least while Niklas is still here—no, longer than that. Until we're sure no one else is coming. It's not safe here."

"Not safe? Then why didn't you break the bracelet? I said I'd come for you—"

"_He_ came for _you!_" Anna shouted exasperatedly. "He wants to use your magic to become king of the Southern Isles. And if not Niklas, then some other jerk will come along. People _know_ about your powers, Elsa. They've been watching, and now the next time a war breaks out somewhere—when they run out of swords and soldiers—they will think of _you._ And I can't protect you from the entire world, but the spirits can, so—"

"So you want me to hide?" Elsa said incredulously. "Anna, that solves nothing. Don't you see? Father and Mother tried. I've tried. For thirteen years."

"I know that. But it's different now because—God, the world is so _big._ Why didn't we think of this? We should've been more careful with your magic. Of course the news would spread. Of course people are greedy. Of course they wouldn't let us just _be._"

"Anna—"

"I know you just got back and Kjekk must be tired, so you can take Sven and the wagon. Kristoff won't need them—long story. We'll ask Gale to keep—"

"Anna, I'm not leaving."

Her sister frowned. "Yes, you are. Didn't you hear what I said? If anyone comes for you again, I can't protect you here."

"Don't you remember Caleb's threats? He sent that _in spite_ _of_ my powers. Fear of my magic already isn't enough to hold the world back, and if lust for it puts the kingdom in danger, then I absolutely cannot leave. It doesn't matter where I run, Anna. I've thought about this."

"No, you haven't. Not properly. Look, for now we can—"

"Anna, _I've thought about this_." Elsa reached for her sister's hands and stared down at their entwined fingers. "Three years ago, and every day since. I know running doesn't work."

"Hey, look at me." Anna ducked into her view, her expression soft but resolute. "I'll say it as many times as you need. You're not a curse, okay? You're the Fifth Spirit and you're in control now; of both your power and your identity."

"I know. It's not the storm I can't outrun."

"Then what is it? What's scaring you so badly that you can't think about your own safety?"

"Anna, please."

"No, seriously, sis. This is important stuff. I need to know."

"You do know."

"Do I?"

"Don't you?" Elsa looked at Anna's clueless expression and sighed. "You do, but you keep forgetting. Whoever comes, whatever reason they have, wherever I run… I'll never be able to stay away from Arendelle. Because if trouble can't find me, it will go looking for _you, _Anna_._"

"Oh," Anna said. Then, softly, "I'm still your weakness."

Elsa released her breath, long and slow. Anna stepped back into the embrace, and Elsa let herself relax into it. "I don't know why you're so surprised," she mumbled. "It'll always be you, silly."

"Even if I'm the queen now?"

"You're still my little sister, aren't you?"

"Well, I didn't forget _that._"

"Then please stop running into fire."

"_I_ run into fire? Before we start on the fact that you ran into literal fire _and_ the freaking sea, I had nothing to do with Niklas coming here."

"I'm not saying you did. But you're also not the most careful person in the world. I just want you to be safe."

They stood in silence for a while, rocking absently on the spot because that was how hugs worked with Anna.

Blinking at the sunlight streaming through the windows, Elsa felt the exhaustion settle in. Her eyes burned from riding through the night to reach the trolls, then racing against the wind. With her cheek resting atop Anna's head, her mind drifted towards thoughts of a hot bath…

Anna mumbled something.

"Sorry? I missed that."

"What about what _I_ want?"

"Anna?"

"You knew, too. And you can't say you forgot, because I reminded you at every turn. You knew, you promised, and you still did it anyway."

"Did what?"

Anna drew back. It startled Elsa to see that her sister's eyes were now rimmed with red. "Left me behind."

_There it is._ It had finally caught up with them.

"I'm sorry." There was a lump in her throat. She could say it a hundred, thousand times, and still choke on it. "I'm sorry, Anna."

"You _died, _Elsa_._"

"If you had tried to cross the Dark Sea with me, you would have died, too." _Like Father and Mother._ "I couldn't risk that."

"Why do you have to be the one taking all the risks? Why can't I send you back to the Forest, even if it's just temporary, to protect you from people like Niklas? I'm even _asking._"

"That's not the same."

"Why not? Why do your fears always matter more than mine?"

"They don't; of course they don't. The situation is entirely different. I can't protect you if you're trying to protect me."

"See? You're doing it again!"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are!"

They were facing each other now, voices rising.

"Ugh! You're being so—so selflessly _selfish_!"

Elsa gawked. "Excuse me? You're the one being unreasonable."

"I'm unreasonable? _You_ pushed me away without saying goodbye!"

"Because you wouldn't have let me go!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have gone!"

"That's not fair, Anna."

"You know what isn't fair? That even after all this, I know you'd do it again. You're still doing it now. You're sorry about hurting me but I bet you're not the slightest bit sorry about ignoring my warnings and getting yourself _killed_."

Elsa's jaw clenched. "Did you think I went to Ahtohallan _looking_ for a death wish? I was seeking the truth to save our kingdom, so yes, I would do it again. Because it was the only way and whatever the consequences, it was the right thing to do."

"For _you,_ sure! I ended up wet and lost in a cave. I watched Olaf flurry away, knowing you had gone to a place I couldn't find… that I could knock on your door forever and it would never open again. Do you know how that—"

"Feels?" Elsa looked wearily at her sister. "Of course I do, Anna."

Anna's mouth snapped shut.

The silence filled with snow.

OoOoO

_Crunch._

"You're running out of time."

"I know what I'm doing."

"No, you don't. You're in over your head, as always." _Crunch._ "But I guess you were on the verge of losing your head altogether. Did you think you'd get away with it? We knew you were hiding down here the whole time. If you hadn't done such a silly thing, he might have forgotten all about you."

"Let's not pretend you care, Hendrick."

"Oh no, I definitely don't." A pause. "But you didn't see what happened to Aksel."

He ran his finger down the page, tracking words and symbols that swam before his eyes. "Did you? See it happen?"

"Yeah."

"Karoline and the children?"

"Fine. But Karoline's not all there anymore, if you catch my drift. Christian's tearing apart all his toys. That stupid bear he takes everywhere? Dismembered. You didn't think to get _them_ out, did you?"

"Don't act all high and mighty. You could have done it. Oh wait, that would have required you to peel your lips from Caleb's shoes. My mistake."

An apple core spattered onto the book. "And where were you, hm? Nose stuck in Lars' books, chasing after myths and fables. Filching vodka and butchering goats. Blubbering for your life. Who was kissing Caleb's shoes then?"

"Shut up, Hendrick."

"'_I've been hearing this voice,'_ he squealed. _'I can be useful to you! I'll do anything you want! Just please don't carve up my pretty little face—'"_

"I said, shut up!"

_Clang!_

Their eyes darted towards the end of the dark crypt. Neither of them spoke until the metallic clamour had settled back down into resentful rattling.

"What were you saying about myths and fables?" he muttered.

"I'm sorry, did you want a pat on the head? Congratulations for pissing off an indestructible force that might kill us all if you can't control it? You're playing with fire, you little fool."

_No. Not fire._

Before he could snap back a retort, they heard footsteps descending the stone stairs.

"Told you," his brother hissed. "You're out of time."

The king walked into the light. His cool gaze roved over the two of them, then landed on the plate sitting on the floor. "You haven't touched your dinner, little brother. I thought that was your favourite dish."

"I'm allergic to shellfish, Your Majesty."

"Are you now? Would it kill you?" The king crouched down and lifted the apple core from the tome's ancient pages, dangling it by its stem between their shadowed faces. "You understand what else could end your life, yes?"

"I'm working on it. I just need more time. I'm getting close to the answer, I know it."

"You know who else is getting closer? Gregory. I don't appreciate being besieged in my own castle by my own brother, while being continuously disappointed by another. You are here for a reason. Just one."

"Let Gregory have the Isles. I can promise you the continent—"

"You promised me more than that."

His throat bobbed. "Yes."

Tossing the core over his shoulder, the king reached for the last bottle of vodka and stood. "Walk with me, little brother."

Hendrick refused to meet his eyes as they passed him.

The king uncapped the bottle and took a swig. "I was thinking about your… let's call it a _recipe_. Three drops of blood, a dash of brännvin, and…?"

"A black animal. We just need to find the right one. Goats and cats must be too trivial. If I could hunt down—"

"Perhaps we should try sheep."

"… Sheep?"

They had reached it—the candles, the scattered rosary beads, the circle. And the battered basin at its centre. Iron. Had to be iron.

The rattling intensified as they reached the circle's edge, singing off of the black stone walls. Yet the basin didn't topple off the pedestal. No sound of liquid sloshing. Not a single drop displaced.

The king passed him the bottle and tugged off his gloves, letting them fall to the ground. Then he stepped into the circle.

The basin immediately stilled.

The king waited until he had joined him. Together, they stared down at the basin. Neither of their faces reflected on the water's surface. Pitch black. No ripples.

Suddenly, the king drew out a dagger.

"C-Caleb? What are you…"

The king held his hand over the basin and dragged the blade across his palm. "Three drops of blood," he said indifferently. "A dash of brännvin."

It was a command. Vodka drizzled into the basin.

"And a black sheep."

"I don't understand… sir."

The king looked expectantly at him.

It sank in.

A nervous laugh. "Aha! I get it. That's a good one. I couldn't possibly…"

The blade danced with candlelight, its fine edge rippled with scarlet. Not a command this time: a choice.

One hesitant step forward.

A powerful hand seized the back of his head and slammed it into the basin.

It was bottomless. He drowned.

_Dive down deep,_ the voice whispered over the distant storm of hooves.

He clawed at the king's arm, nails raking over skin.

_Deeper._

His chest burned.

_Now, swim._

Hans' eyes snapped open.

And the water glared back.

* * *

**A/N:** They're (kind of) back together! We finally leave the struggle highway behind! I have also never used so many exclamation marks in one chapter!

I drew some inspiration from Scandinavian mythology since we have the Nokk in Frozen 2 and the Huldrefolk from the Forest of Shadows book. If you want to know where the 'recipe' came from, it's from the 'Neck (water spirit)' wikipedia page because we only use reliable sources in this house.

P.S. I didn't forget about Belland but there wasn't a right time to write him leaving so, uh, he's probably still standing there. While they fight. Awkwardly.

P.P.S. Yes, Anna is wearing her new outfit from the cover of the Explore the North picture book! The one with her in That Jacket everyone, including me, is fawning over.


	10. A Part of Me

**The Next Unknown**

_10 – A Part of Me_

OoOoO

If Oskar narrowed his eyes any further, he wouldn't be able to see at all.

"Mm, Fabian, these are divine! You've outdone yourself with this batch! We'll take five—no, ten boxes. One on the go, please, and the rest sent to the castle. Here, Oskar, you have to try this."

A cookie landed in his hand.

The baker bustled off. Anna continued sneaking samples. When she saw that Oskar hadn't moved, she swallowed with visible difficulty and said, "Don't tell me you've got a thing against krumkake, too. Because that will really put a strain on our friendship."

"What friendship?"

"We've been hanging out together for the entire day. Do you guys have a different word for that in the south?"

"Yeah—'kidnapping'." Oskar levelled a flat stare at her. "You said we were going to run _one_ errand. Instead, we've spent the afternoon checking potholes and finding lost cats."

"Okay, but one of them was just a kitten."

"We tracked down fourteen different Rolfs to ask about a goat."

"Wasn't it sixteen?"

"You talked to _every single person we passed._"

"Just serving the kingdom."

"And now you're eating waffle cookies."

"Oh, so you don't want yours?" Anna made a swipe for his krumkake, and grinned when Oskar shoved it into his mouth. "For the record," she said, reaching out to brush crumbs from his cheek, "we're going to visit someone who loves Fabian's krumkake. I thought we'd make her day."

It was hard to scowl with his mouth full (okay, it did taste pretty spectacular). The baker returned with Anna's order, and of course she couldn't say goodbye like a normal person. Oskar had to take the krumkake box out of her hand and drag her towards the door before they lost another hour.

"Don't you have proper duties? Like signing documents without reading them?"

"All done! I also held court, attended another council meeting, and supervised a training drill with Mattias. I even took a few swings."

He already knew that; it was how he'd gotten roped into her shenanigans in the first place. He'd been minding his own business, dragging along a bucket of carrots Gerda had prepared for Sven, when the queen's voice had rang out across the courtyard. _Oh, Oskar! Hold onto this for me? Thanks!_ And then a wad of fabric had smacked into his face. By the time he'd set down the bucket and pulled her jacket off of his head, Anna had already gallivanted off to joke with the troops, reaching for a practice sword.

Even now, she still had too much energy. Oskar couldn't take his hand back because she kept yanking him through shortcuts with a cheery "This way!" and swinging their linked hands as she walked.

Such an open book.

"So? What did Niklas want?"

"Nothing!"

"You hesitated."

Anna continued staring innocently up at the sky. "Doesn't mean I'm lying—he wanted nothing from _me_. And he didn't get it, anyway. I thought _I_ was bad at politics but we totally scammed him. I'd feel bad if he wasn't such a ninny."

_A ninny_, said the grown up sovereign of Arendelle. "Right. So what are you and your sister fighting about then?"

His arm jerked in its socket as Anna abruptly stopped walking. "Okay, why is everyone suddenly asking me that?" she blurted, even as the sunshine in her expression, usually so infuriatingly unshakeable, clouded over. Which wouldn't usually be of any concern to Oskar if it wasn't so… _inconvenient_ watching Anna mope around like a lost puppy.

"I only knew your sister for, what, two days? And you were glued to her side the whole time. Even when she was gone, you wouldn't stop talking about her and wearing that scarf she made you. And now that she's back, you've suddenly spent the last three days running 'errands' all over the place. So how about you tell me what's going on, Your Genius Majesty?"

"I—exactly! I'm the queen! I'm busy!"

Oskar just looked at her.

Anna chewed her lip. "Elsa and I aren't _fighting_… at least, I don't think we are. How do you, um, tell?"

By the way Anna was distracting herself with everything while her snow queen of a sister all but barricaded herself in the library. By the way Gerda and the other castle staff had taken to sighing wistfully at random intervals. "You're kidding, right? How can you _not_ tell?"

"I don't know! We've never really fought before. I mean, we did plenty of it as kids—she was _so_ petty when it came to chocolate… actually, she still is. And we totally disagree now and then. But this? It's just… not talking to each other. And we've sort of done that for thirteen years, so it's nothing new. Sort of."

"Hold on—you were mad at each other for _thirteen years_?"

"What? No, we were just separated. I wasn't angry with her—well, sometimes I was. A tiny tad. But most of the time I just missed her. It was really nice when we got to see each other at her coronation, but then I wanted to marry your other ninny of an uncle and she thought that was stupid…" Anna stopped, tilting her head. "Huh. I guess we have fought before."

Oskar was still stuck on one detail. "When were you separated?"

"Mm? Oh, I was five."

Even more baffling. "So why?"

"Why was I five years old?"

"Why were you so happy to see someone you only knew for five years? You wouldn't have remembered half of it."

Anna blinked. "But I didn't have to. It's not like I could _forget_ someone who's loved me my whole life, silly. I've never not been Elsa's little sister; she's a part of me. Does that make sense?"

Oskar shook his head. "_You_ don't make sense."

She proved his point by grinning back. Her grip on his hand had loosened, but with that pensive expression on her face and her dreadful track record for staying upright, Oskar worried that she would trip and break something if he let go.

"What about you? Did you and Sofia fight?"

_No more stupid heroics._ "All the time."

There was a lengthy pause. Oskar glanced up and glimpsed surprise on Anna's face before she recovered. "What was she like?"

"You're awful at changing topics, you know." But her grin remained unfazed, and when she gave his hand a slight squeeze, Oskar felt his shoulders unclench. "She liked chocolate."

"Ah, so she was normal. What happened to you then?"

"Shut up. We weren't real siblings, anyway. She just decided to… care. She was stubborn like that. And brave. And a horrible singer."

"Yeah?" Anna's voice was light. Encouraging.

"She wasn't brave all the time, though. She was a big coward when it came to snails; could hear her scream from the other end of the island. I used to leave them around her room and hide under the bed with my ears plugged up. She had killer aim so there was no point running. There's probably a footprint on the back of my head from all the times she sent her shoe flying at me." Oskar paused. "You would have liked her. But she wouldn't have liked you as much."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're too nice. It's suspicious."

"Um. I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult."

"Keep wondering."

"Gosh, you're ruthless."

Oskar's palms were getting sweaty, but Anna didn't seem to mind. "You'd tell me, right?"

"Nah, keep wondering. Wait, tell you what?"

He kept his eyes forward, focusing on the next step. And the next. "When Prince Gregory dies. Unless it's already… happened?"

"No!" Anna sounded horrified. "At least, I don't think so? There's been no news and Niklas talked about the siege like it was still holding—but that's not the point. I know it looks bad, but if Gregory is as good as everyone says he is, your 'when' should at least be an 'if'."

"You don't know him. Even if he retreats in the meantime, he'll try again as soon as he gathers more men. And if he's still outnumbered, he's the type that would rather charge into defeat than do nothing. He will not give up on the Isles."

"Does he want to be the king that badly?"

Oskar almost laughed; Sofia would have. "He'd be a great one, and I'm not just saying that because I think so. Out of the princes, he and Aksel had the most supporters. But Prince Gregory thinks none of King Johan's sons should sit on the throne; the other twelve won't stand for it. Westergaards can't seem to last a generation without civil war."

"Your father sounds wise, but he only attacked prematurely to save you. He wouldn't throw his life away without looking for you first, would he?"

It would spare him from learning that Oskar had broken his promise. How badly he'd failed. "It doesn't matter. You'll probably get sick of me and boot me out of Arendelle before he showed up."

Anna studied him a while longer, then seemed to decide to let it go. "I could be persuaded to keep you around if you gave chocolate a chance. Hot cocoa before bedtime has magic of its own. We should ask Elsa. She makes the best…" She trailed off, sunshine once more dimming.

So hopeless. So freaking inconvenient. "Just tell her you're sorry."

"Hey, why are you assuming it's my fault?"

"I'm not. Honestly, I don't even care. You just _look_ sorry—both of you, every time I see you pass each other. So you might as well knock on her door and say it."

Anna released his hand and gave him a sudden push forward. "Great! Since you're such an expert in knocking, you can do the honours. We're here."

They were standing in front of a house large enough to be a manor by Arendellian standards. All the curtains were drawn. "Is this house haunted?" Oskar asked dubiously as they approached the steps.

Anna laughed. "Freya's lovely. But she's getting on in age and, well, she's always been forgetful. I sent her son to Weselton with Kristoff, so we're going to make sure she has everything she needs until he gets back. She'll love seeing a fresh face, especially if you surprise her with the krumkake. Go on."

Rolling his eyes, Oskar rapped his knuckles on the door. "Making house calls," he muttered. "What kind of queen are you?"

"Everybody's," Anna said cheerfully as the door opened. "Hi, Freya!"

A grey-haired woman stood in the doorway. Remarkably tall, she loomed over them with a dignified air, no sign of a hunch. No sign of emotion on her pallid face, either, as she adjusted her spectacles and peered at them.

Anna's smile didn't falter as she gave Oskar a meaningful nudge.

"Oh. Uh…" The woman was so tall that Oskar had to raise the box above his head. "Krumkake?"

Her blank gaze shifted to the box, then down to Oskar. And bored into him, unblinking, until she suddenly spun on her heels and headed back into the gloomy house.

"What the hell was that?" Oskar lowered the box of cookies. "I thought you said she liked krumkake. And that this place wasn't haunted."

Anna's frown was uncertain. "I don't know. Hakon didn't say it had gotten this bad."

The sound of returning footsteps—no, _stomping_. The sound of fury.

Oskar turned around in time to see something swing at his head.

"_Where have you been, you foolish boy?_"

OoOoO

Anna didn't realise the power behind Freya's blow until the broom completed its arc and sent the open door smashing into the wall. If Oskar hadn't ducked—

"You have some nerve coming back!" Freya shrieked, brandishing the broom for a second strike.

Anna threw herself in front of Oskar. "Freya, wait!" The wooden handle cracked into her palms. Wincing, Anna seized it tight. "It's okay, Freya! It's just me!"

Freya's spectacles were askew and fogging up with her hard breaths. Her eyes narrowed behind them. Then they widened. "Your Majesty?"

Relief made it hard for Anna to conceal her desperation. "Yes. Hello. You're okay. See?"

The broom dropped to the ground with another sharp crack and just like that, it seemed to disappear from Freya's awareness. "Oh no, this is terribly embarrassing. I'm sorry you had to see me disciplining my worthless son, ma'am. You must understand; he's been missing for days. Just upped and left without a word. I feared he had taken another trip north!"

_Hakon._

Questions ricocheted in Anna's mind as she reached behind her back and gestured for Oskar to leave. "Oh, um, that's actually my fault—total misunderstanding. Hakon was helping me… catalogue the castle library! That's it! I forgot to send someone to tell you. I'm so sorry, Freya. You must have been worried. How about we go inside and talk about it? Gosh, I'd love a cup of tea."

Finally, Freya's wrinkled face broke into the sweet smile Anna remembered. "Yes, yes, of course! How rude of me. Please come in."

Exhaling, Anna made to follow Freya into the house. And got yanked back.

"Are you crazy?" Oskar hissed. "You can't go in there! She just attacked us—attacked _you._ That's a capital offence."

Anna pressed a finger to her lips, glancing back at the house. "She didn't mean it; she's confused. She's been like that for years, but I haven't visited in a while and it seems to have gotten worse. Don't worry; she won't hurt me now that she recognises me. But you should definitely go. She's… mistaking you for her son."

_My mother is capable of looking after herself,_ Hakon had said. Now, with a sinking heart, Anna wondered if Freya had ever been capable of looking after _him._

Oskar crossed his arms. "You're an idiot if you think I'll let you walk in there alone."

"That's very sweet but—"

"No buts. You said I could be your little bodyguard."

Anna's distress seeped away as she studied the prickly boy who had once refused to call her by her name. Her lips curved upwards. "Do my ears deceive me? I thought you didn't want the job."

"Whatever. Give me the broom."

"And what are you planning to do with that, hmm?" Anna made to ruffle Oskar's hair, but his venomous glare and the fiery aching of her hands changed her mind. "Alright, but let me do the talking. We'll leave if it gets bad—not that I'm saying it will. Freya is the picture of health but she's still, like, sixty years old. She'd take the prize for Most Sprightly Senior Citizen if we had one." _Not mentally._ "Anyway, just be nice!"

"I'm always nice," Oskar sniffed as he snatched up the fallen box of krumkake.

The house's interior was ominously dark. Treading cautiously with one hand in front of her and the other on Oskar's shoulder reminded Anna of the time she and Elsa had discovered their first hidden passageway. It had been cold and dingy, and Elsa must have illuminated their path with magic, because Anna had revisited that passage many times since and seen no wall sconces. They'd eventually emerged to find the castle in a frenzy searching for them; apparently, they'd been missing for hours.

_It was the best adventure ever!_ Anna had exclaimed happily while Papa plucked cobwebs from her hair. _Wasn't it fun, Elsa?_ What she had seen when she'd turned around, though, was Elsa clinging to Mama while Gerda cleaned her up with a handkerchief, eyes wide and teary. Anna's excitement had ebbed away as her bottom lip began quivering in response to her sister's fear, finally come unchecked.

Almost immediately, Elsa had hastily wiped her cheeks and beamed back. _Yeah! Let's go back and explore when we're bigger!_

Anna walked straight into a wall with a startled yelp.

"How did you not see that?" Oskar whispered incredulously as he steadied a picture frame that was swinging like a pendulum.

"I was thinking!"

"Start _looking_ then!"

"I-Is someone there?" came a thin voice from the other side.

They found Freya in the dim sitting room, half-risen from her armchair with a thick book in her hands. "Please don't throw that!" Anna blurted, hastily stepping into the candlelight.

Freya's trepidation melted away into relief. "Oh, Your Majesty! I didn't hear you at the door. I thought for a moment it was the wild ones."

She had already forgotten about them.

Anna pushed a smile onto her face. "Sorry for dropping in without warning. What are you reading?"

Freya flashed the book's cover with a proud smile. "Hakon recommended this one to me. That boy always has his nose in a book. I'm not quite sure where he gets it from; his father abhorred the written word." She craned her neck, and Anna wondered if she should grab the book just in case. But this time, Freya's face brightened at the sight of Oskar. "There you are, Hakon! We were just talking about you. What are you doing with that broom, silly child?"

Oskar shot Anna a questioning look. She returned it pointedly. Sighing, he propped the broom against the wall and shuffled forward to place the box on the coffee table in front of Freya. "Got you krumkake from Fabian's. Might be a bit crushed because I, ah, dropped it. Outside."

"My sweet, uncoordinated boy," Freya cooed, seemingly once more the adoring mother. Seeing her and Hakon together, Anna used to think that no matter how far Freya's mind drifted from the world around her, she would always recognise her own child. Now that comfort was gone—because Freya hadn't swung that broom at Anna or Oskar; in her mind, she had aimed for Hakon.

How many times had she done that?

"Why don't you make Her Majesty some tea? Just like you do for me. There's a good boy."

Oskar's eyes practically bugged out as he turned to Anna. She jerked her head down the corridor and mouthed, _Second left._

She knew this because the first time she had successfully wheedled Hakon into letting her come inside, Freya had taken one clueless look at her and insisted on sharing her great-grandmother's secret cookie recipe. Hakon had returned with his documents to find the two of them elbows deep in flour, utterly inextricable. It had been another two hours before Anna and Hakon had made it back to the castle, white-haired and bearing burnt cookies. Elsa had spent the meeting struggling to keep a straight face.

Except Elsa was not queen anymore. Hakon was in Weselton. And Anna was no longer in either of their good graces.

There was a crash of shattering china. "I'm okay!" Oskar called from the kitchen.

"Are you sure?" Anna called back.

"No!"

Freya chuckled serenely. "He'll be fine; the boy practically raised himself. He says he'll become the youngest minister in the privy council. His father would have been so proud." Her eyes became misty. "They share a name, but they never got to share in each other's company."

Flickering candlelight illuminated a portrait of Hakon Erling Sr. hanging above the mantel, solemn and immortalised in his military uniform. "You did a wonderful job raising him, Freya. Now, how about we get some light in here? It's a beautiful day. Let me open some curtains—"

"You mustn't!" Freya's hands were claws around Anna's wrist. Her eyes bulged wide and terrified. "The wild ones are bold! They will come. The treaty means nothing to them." A sudden gasp. "Hakon! Where did he go?"

"He's okay, Freya. He's making tea for us, remember? That's him banging around in the kitchen." Anna knelt in front of the chaise, gently freeing herself from Freya's clutch so she could hold the older woman's hand. "You're both safe. No one is going to hurt you."

Freya gripped Anna's hands so tightly they hurt. "The war is not over… you must tell the king that he must not end the conscription. Arendelle cannot let down its guard. The wild ones _will_ return to raid us. They won't stop until they've driven us out of our homes."

"I don't understand. What war?" As soon as she questioned it, though, Anna knew. "The wild ones," she repeated. "Do you mean… the Northuldra?"

"Don't give them a name!"

Anna flinched at Freya's outburst. "Th-that's what they call themselves. The people of the sun. Freya, they mean us no harm. It was Runeard who—"

"Runeard." Freya's eyes had glazed over. "He said it would be over when he came back. But they didn't come back. The wild ones butchered them." She pulled at Anna's hands. "I feared the worst when Hakon disappeared last month on that foolish journey of his. If you hadn't brought him back, Your Majesty, I can't imagine what those barbarians would have done to him. Thank you, thank you…"

It was like the prick of a needle—a tiny puncture exposing blood to air, and the truth to itself. Anna should have known from the first _Your Majesty_. Because to Freya, Hakon was still a child, the Northuldra were still their enemies, and neither she nor Elsa had ruled Arendelle yet.

Freya stopped rocking and blinked. "Ah, Queen Iduna! I did not see you there."

Anna squeezed her eyes shut, and swallowed.

_One more white lie. _Just a little longer in a world where she was not yet born, with a future that waited for her to pick flowers with Mama and climb onto Papa's shoulders. Where nightmares didn't last because her big sister would crawl into her bed and say sleepily, _You're okay, Anna. I got you._

Taking a deep breath, Anna opened her eyes with a smile. "Hi, Freya. Would you like some krumkake?"

OoOoO

'… _shapeshifter, though widely believed to take the form of a brook horse. Some accounts associate the Nokk with enchanting music. Mothers warned their children to beware the sound of a sweet violin on a foggy day, for many an admirer had been lured to the water only to be swallowed by its sinister depths…'_

"Hey, Elsa?"

"Yes, Olaf?"

"Did you know that 'Kai' and 'Gerda' are characters in a story called '_The Snow Queen_'? That's such an extraordinary coincidence! Oh, but the Snow Queen is evil in this one. You're much nicer."

"Why thank you, little guy."

'… _a scattered picture of superstitious precautions. One method involves casting iron or steel into its waters and uttering its name with true conviction. Another claims the Nokk fears its own reflection captured in stagnant water. However, some tales suggest the water spirit is not inherently malevolent…'_

"Hey, Elsa?"

"Yes, Olaf?"

"Can you fly me up to that shelf? Oooh, higher, higher! A _little_ bit to the left… and a _teensy_ nudge back to the right… boy, it is so dusty up here. Try not to sneeze! I'd love more little brothers, but I'm running out of names."

'… _rumours it can be persuaded to impart its enthralling music—or, more daringly, be summoned by means of an appropriate offering…'_

"Hey, Elsa?"

"One moment, Olaf. I think I've found something."

'_One can only speculate at the price of such a ritual, for the exploitation of myth echoes a foray into the shadowy call into shamanism, and therefore the forfeit of one's soul.'_

Pulse quickening, she turned the page.

'_And that, young explorers, is why you must never neglect your prayers and music lessons. In the next volume of _Aren Tales, _we shall be whisked to the land of the huldrefolk!'_

Elsa snapped the book shut with a groan. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. Only a fool searched for answers to questions they didn't even know. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Hey, Elsa?"

"Yes, Olaf?"

"Did you know that rubbing your eyes is a sign of exhaustion?"

"Is it now?"

"Uh huh! So maybe you should take a break, because you've been doing it a lot. Like, _a lot_."

Elsa smiled faintly. "I'll keep that in mind."

"What were you reading?" Olaf picked up her discarded book. "Ooh, _Aren Tales_! I love this series. Sven reads them to me for bedtime stories. Lots of big words."

"It's still a best-selling series after all these years. Legend has it that Aren founded Arendelle, but Father used to say that these journals were Aren's greatest legacy. They are as eccentric as he apparently was; as much myth for scholars as they are fables for children. The content is simple and almost immature, yet the writing is long-winded. Frankly, most of the journals don't make much sense at all."

"So Aren didn't have anything useful to say about the Nokk?"

"Unfortunately not. At least, nothing that could help us understand what could have happened to it, or how to bring it back." Elsa made to rub her eyes, but Olaf cleared his throat and she sheepishly lowered her hand. "What about you? Did you find anything on Vuos and Nuor?"

"Nope! But I found lots of other pairs in literature." Olaf flounced to his feet and started going through his stack of books. "Kai and Gerda, Hansel and Gretel, Jack and the Beanstalk…"

"I'm not sure that one counts, Olaf."

"Did you know there are lots of siblings in Greek and Roman mythology? There's Apollo and Artemis, Castor and Pollux…"

Elsa slumped back into the armchair as Olaf went on. Once more, they had nothing to show for a full day of researching. The sun was already setting, distilling its flames through the stained glass. Elsa's only comfort was that the library had always been her sanctuary; surrounded by centuries of knowledge, it was hard to feel sorry for oneself. Growing up, she used to look for books that had been returned to the wrong places in an attempt to gauge Anna's latest interest. Sometimes Elsa rearranged the books herself, placing stories about knights and dragons on the lower shelves for her sister to reach. Sometimes notes and drawings fluttered out of those same books, days later.

Yesterday, though, Elsa had nearly fallen out of her chair when Anna had suddenly banged into the library with a pen behind one ear and her nose stuck in a lengthy missive. Her sister had looked up, frozen at the sight of her, then awkwardly tiptoed to the legislation section. Eventually, Elsa had asked what she was looking for and Anna had stammered, _Just, uh, something about land registry. That actually makes sense._ Elsa had sent a snowflake to mark the relevant tome, and Anna had been tall enough to reach that on her own.

Now, Elsa couldn't help eyeing the door as Olaf continued making his merry lists. Then she heard something that made her head snap up. "Olaf, what was that you just said?"

"Hm? About the blurring of myth and legend into the same stories under different names, until someone wins a war and gets to claim their story as the most accurately inaccurate version of history?"

"Not quite. You were going through characters in Norse mythology?"

"Oh, yes! There's Thor, of course, but Tyr is my favourite; he's so brave. There are lots of animals, too. There's Fenrir the wolf, and Jormungandr the big bad serpent, and Hugin and Munin, who were Odin's—"

"Ravens." Elsa recalled the wings she had seen when Pabbie had consulted the auroras. Was it too much of a stretch? What did any of it mean?

_Sisters sundered._ How much worse could it get?

"Did you know that Hugin represents thought and Munin symbolises memory? Together, they make up the human mind. Isn't that cool? You can't have Hugin without Munin—just like how you can't be Elsa without Anna."

It was such a simple statement, so innocent and true. Elsa pulled Olaf into her lap so he couldn't see the wistfulness behind her smile. "That's why we have you. You're a little bit of me and a little bit of Anna."

"That means I'm mostly you! Because you're the big sister, so you taught Anna how to be Anna."

"That's a nice thought, but I'm not sure I taught Anna anything at all. She's always been her own person."

"Aww, that's not true. You taught her how to ice-skate."

"Not successfully."

"Good point. How to be a good queen then."

"She's always had that in her."

"How to be patient?"

"Arguable."

"But you definitely taught her how to read, right?"

"I—" Elsa raised her head. "How do you know that?"

"Anna told me! She said you used to hold her hand and write letters in the sand."

It had actually been in the snow, but Anna wouldn't remember that. Elsa had been prepared to change that the first time they went to Ahtohallan together. She had taken a breath, turned to Anna, and asked, "Would you like to see the memories you lost?"

Except Anna only stared back blankly. "What memories?"

Had Anna hit her head running from the Earth Giants and forgotten what she had forgotten? "Of… that night, Anna. The trolls? And everything that came before?"

"Oh, that." Her sister waved it off. "Geez, sis, you make it sound so dramatic. Haven't you heard Olaf's spiel on semantic accuracy? Pabbie _altered_ my memories; I didn't lose them. I didn't lose _you_… oh."

They looked at each other then. Elsa was glad she hadn't needed to say it aloud: _Didn't you? Didn't I?_

Then Anna headbutted her. "Ooh, ow, sorry. That was way harder than I'd planned. Anyway, take them."

"Take what, Anna? And what exactly are you doing?"

"Giving you my memories! Put them up; let me show you what I was like at six years old. And seven, and eight, and thirteen. I'll give you everything. Then it's your turn. Did you have awkward teen years? Because I totally had awkward teen years."

"That is not how it works," Elsa laughed. She'd meant the way Anna kept pushing her head into her shoulder like a cat, as if memories were transferred by contact.

Anna, though, looked up with her muddled hair and said, "Well, it _should_ work that way. Life's too short to miss out on a sister like you."

And yet, here they were.

OoOoO

"There you are, Kai!"

She saw him leap into the air. The cloth he was using to polish the banister flew automatically to his brow in that habit she so loved. "Goodness me! I-Is there something can I help you with, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, sorry… just let me… catch my breath." Anna pressed a hand to the stitch in her side and flopped down at the top of the stairs. She probably shouldn't, but she also probably shouldn't have taken off at a run after dropping Oskar off with Sven. Sometimes a queen had to do what a queen had to do, and not be the queen for a few minutes.

Sometimes the past crept up so close, so suddenly, that it needed to be physically outrun.

Kai resumed his polishing with a tone of amusement. "Did another duckling hatch?"

Fanning her face, Anna laughed. "No, that was last week. I called him Sir Eggbert."

"Very good. I shall inform General Mattias that a new knight will join his ranks. Speaking of knights, ma'am, I hope you didn't topple another suit of armour in your rush…?"

"Um…"

Kai stopped. "_Ma'am?"_

"I'm kidding! Of course I didn't—well, maybe not _of course_, but you would have heard it if I had." Anna slipped off her shoes and set them on the step beside her. "Or maybe not, huh? It's pretty busy around here nowadays; not so quiet and echo-y anymore."

"Actually, Gerda and I were saying the past few days have been quieter than they ought to be."

Anna's lip jutted out. "You're usually much subtler than that, Kai."

"I could say that you're usually a lot more forgiving, little crown." The old nickname brought back memories of crashing into the staff's dinnertime to unload her day on them because the halls were too empty and she'd already shouted her news through her sister's door, and there was simply no one else to tell after that because Mama and Papa…

Shaking her head, Anna remembered why she had sought Kai out. "Was Mother friends with Hakon Erling?"

Kai seemed taken aback. "I believe Queen Iduna never met the senior Lord Hakon Erling, but I do recall that she was the one who recommended young Master Erling to be His Majesty's aide. I do not know if they were friends, though."

Anna wasn't sure she'd heard that correctly. "Father's _aide_?" she sputtered. "Hakon was close with both of them?"

"I'm afraid I know little about their relationship; Master Hakon is a very private person, as you know. I'm inclined to think he met the queen at the orphanage. Mrs. Erling has been… indisposed since her husband passed, so while Master Erling had his own home, he was partially raised as a ward of the state. Queen Iduna lived at the orphanage in her adolescence; it caused quite a stir when the king began courting her. She remained closely involved with its affairs and visited frequently until the king ordered the gates closed; even then, she wrote letters to all the children and continued to make trips when she could. I presume she may have seen Master Erling as a younger sibling and recognised his intelligence? He became His Majesty's aide before the gates closed. The position was an incredible achievement for a young man only fifteen years of age."

The timelines tangled in Anna's mind. She'd known Hakon had started his career young—how could she not when he brought it up like clockwork?—but for some reason it had never crossed her mind to wonder how closely he had worked with her parents. When she had been introduced to Elsa's privy council, she'd merely found all the councillors' faces vaguely familiar; adults she had seen talking to Father in the halls before he reduced the staff and moved meetings from the castle chambers to the town hall.

But now she knew that Hakon had practically grown up around her parents. Did he know things about them that Anna didn't? Had she and Elsa grown up in his invisible orbit? Why hadn't he ever said anything to her? He couldn't possibly think she wouldn't _want_ to know.

Then again, Hakon wasn't the only one who had kept secrets from her.

_The wild ones,_ Freya had said. Anna's stomach lurched. How had her mother felt, hearing the hate in those words? While she'd hidden in plain sight as Queen of Arendelle?

"If you want to know more about Master Hakon's family," Kai said, "perhaps you should speak to Councillor Belland."

It felt too soon for a deja vu, but Anna once more doubted her hearing. "Councillor Belland? Why?"

"He was close friends with Lord Hakon Erling Sr. They were both trusted advisors to King Runeard and accompanied him to Northuldra that day."

Freya's despair rang in Anna's mind: _They didn't come back._

She left Kai to his duties and padded barefooted down the hallway, unable to shake off the sense that an hourglass had been shattered; its sands rapidly trickling through her fingers while she scrabbled for reason among the debris.

It didn't help that her head felt stuffed with cotton. Last night, she'd missed dinner because Kristoff hadn't been around to accuse her of doing an Elsa. There had been so many missives to reply to and Councillor Fisker had sent in last month's crop report, and then she'd made a round to check on the refugees… and in between all of that she'd wondered if Elsa was eating alone. But it couldn't be helped because she was _busy_. Elsa would understand. Elsa knew Anna better than she knew herself, and that was half the problem, wasn't it?

Anna turned a corner—and the bracelet started glowing.

She finally registered the music flowing around her.

Before she knew it, she was standing outside a door again. It was a different door, and she knew this one wasn't locked. She knew she could walk in without knocking. She could skip inside and drape herself over Elsa's shoulder while her sister played. She could put one finger on the piano and choose a whimsical chord progression for Elsa to compose an entire piece around; a song that was solely Anna's. She could open the door like some things had never changed.

But she couldn't, could she?

So Anna sat outside, idly spinning the bracelet around her wrist. Its gentle chill was a balm against her still-aching palm. Against everything. She thought to herself that Elsa's music sounded like the Forest now—like the warmth of a crackling campfire, the rhythmic pattering of rain on waxy leaves, whispered secrets carried on an unfettered breeze—and made a mental note to tell Elsa that later. When they weren't fighting.

She didn't think they _were_ fighting, though. Which felt even worse.

Elsa's last piece culminated in a dramatic, waterfall-like rush before easing down to a trickle. It was Anna's cue to get up; to put her shoes back on and go back to being the queen. But just as she began to stand, a simple melody froze her in place. It was only eight tentative notes and thirteen years of singing to a white door.

_Do you want to build a snowman?_

Anna lost her balance and crashed back against the door with a yelp.

She heard a heavy bench scrape against the floor on the other side. "Anna? Are you okay?"

"Yep! Totally fine! Thick skull."

"Do you need ice?"

"No, I'm good. Really. Thanks. You sound like a tree. Wait, no, your _music_ sounds like a tree—lots of trees. A forest. _The_ Forest. I just—I should go."

From her side, Anna saw the door handle turn ever so slightly, then return to its regular position. "Okay. Bye."

Anna put her shoes on. She stood up without tripping. But she didn't leave. She could, but she couldn't.

Instead, she turned back to the door and announced, "I'm not going to apologise."

"I know." Elsa didn't sound at all surprised. "Neither am I."

Anna was awful at chess, but she'd gotten stuck in enough stalemates to know that they weren't supposed to feel like this. The door handle dug into her back.

"You taught me how to slide down the halls in socks," Elsa said suddenly. "And how to connect with our people. You taught me how to ride bareback; I might not have been able to tame the Nokk if you hadn't."

_Then maybe you shouldn't have gone._ But she'd already told Elsa that, hadn't she? She'd shouted it, heard it echo back at her, and it hadn't felt as cathartic as she'd thought it would. Nowhere near.

"You taught me a lot of things, Anna. Including the fear of losing you."

"Well, so did you." She released the bracelet before she broke it with her agitated fidgeting. _Promise you'll break this if you need me_ wasn't the same as breaking promises. "Have you ever thought that between being in danger and being alone, I'd rather choose the danger?"

A sigh. "Have you considered that between you and the rest of the world, I will always choose you?"

It was a good thing Anna's eyes were already dry and tired. "You really need to stop using that as your ace card."

"I might if you stop acting like it's unreasonable for me to value your safety."

"Wow, sis. I never realised you were such a hypocrite."

"Well, I'm sorry you thought you had a monopoly on stubbornness in this family."

"I didn't; I thought it was just on stupidity. Now you're proving I was wrong about that, too."

"Very mature, Anna."

"What do you expect? I learned from the best." Anna felt like a coil ready to snap. "I'm going to walk away from this unproductive discussion now. Like an _adult_."

"Have a good evening," came Elsa's terse reply.

Anna's feet had only just recovered, but it didn't stop her from stomping away. Any moment now, it would start feeling good. Any moment now, the hallway would once more fill up with the sound of music; perhaps more volcano than forest. Then Anna would feel like she was doing the right thing. Because she _was_ right. One of them had to be.

The bracelet grew duller. And warmer. Anna kept walking.

She took a right. Then another. And another. Until she was back in front of the music room door, teeth gritted, hand raised—

It opened before she could knock.

And there was her sister, equally startled. They stared at each other like it had been years since they'd seen face to face. Eye to eye.

Then Anna recovered and huffed, "Yes. To the snowman. But later. When you're not being such a stinker."

Elsa's eyebrows rose along with the corners of her lips. "Noted."

This time, Anna didn't stomp when she walked away. She could, but she couldn't.

* * *

A/N: Ahh, it's so good to have a chapter with the sisters back together (and no cliffhangers?!). When I set out to write this story, I knew I wanted to explore Anna and Elsa confronting each other and having a good squabble. Frankly, I think they need it.

And we are now in double digit chapters! All this free time inspired me to pick up an Apple Pencil and start drawing out of the blue, so I tried to draw the 'Anna gives Elsa a massage' scene from chapter 4 as a little 'thank you' for following this little project. It's on my tumblr (themarshmallowattack) - I finally had a big brain moment and made a link to all The Next Unknown posts. Just click on 'The Next Unknown fic' and that should make all our lives easier. I also made a random audio mashup of The Next Right Thing x Into the Unknown, which you can also find on my tumblr. Loooong story. Hope you enjoy?

As always, thank you for reading! It's such a joy to receive your feedback, especially when I hear that you guys actually like Oskar, Hakon and Belland. I can't reply to the wonderful guest reviewers but please know that I appreciate all of you :)

(Random trivia: you must know by now that I am horribly unoriginal when it comes to fic and chapter titles. If you haven't yet figured out where 'The Next Unknown' comes from, you might want to check out that mashup. Then you'll probably want to show me the door.)


	11. Cold Secrets Deep Inside

**The Next Unknown**

_11 – Cold Secrets Deep Inside_

OoOoO

"_Swim, you fool."_

He was lost in the water, and yet he could somehow breathe. He couldn't wake, and yet he knew he was not asleep. He was alive, and yet he sensed vengeance in the waves, baying for blood. Judging him.

"_Tame it, or be crushed."_

_This is your fault,_ Hans thought. Then he wanted to laugh, because he wasn't just hearing voices now; he was talking back to them. It had only taken three years of mucking out stables to drive him insane. Father would be pleased.

Ah, but Father was dead, wasn't he?

Liquid hooves slammed into his chest. Hans could tell by the roar of a raging river that judgement had been passed: he was unworthy.

Screw the crown. He wanted air. He wanted light. He wanted to have never heard the voice saying '_It can be done'_, or followed its whispers to those damned books stuffed in the archives of Lars' library.

He suffocated. Unravelling, sinking, gone.

Suddenly, there was fire—a searing pain in his arm, like a white hot blade plunged into marrow, flooding the black water crimson. The scarlet cloud parted above him, outlining a shape that made him think for a moment that Sitron had come for him—but this horse was nothing but liquid and narrowed, glowing eyes. It wanted to devour him; he knew it, felt it. Had felt it since the night he'd snuck back from the library and cracked open the ancient tomes. Father had ordered Lars to translate the strange script, but they had not reached the page Hans instinctively knew he needed.

He should have been surprised when he understood the words anyway.

He should have been wary when the directions he whimsically followed off the page led to the iron basin filling with inky water, and the crypt with the eerie cacophony of hooves and furious neighing. Should have suspected it was magic unlike that which summoned snow abominations and ice palaces.

He should have been more concerned about drowning in the darkness.

The plume of blood flowing from his left wrist roped into a string that pulled taut. The stallion snapped at it, but it did not break. Hans stopped sinking.

"_A blood anchor,_" the voice murmured. "_Climb, fool."_

For what? No one would say, '_I am proud of you, my boy._ _My son.'_ No one would be happy to call him '_my king.'_ Even the entourage of nephews and nieces he'd been forced to babysit for half his life had been scattered across the continent. No more toys to repair or squabbles to mediate, or absent fathers to replace. No one needed him.

The stallion threw back its proud head and charged.

"_Cast iron and speak its name," _the voice hissed. "_Do it now, or it will have your soul."_

He impassively studied the red string snared around his limp wrist. There was iron in blood. Family. It all started with blood. So what was in a name? What would history say of Hans Westergaard?

Nothing_._

No. He refused to die with nothing. He refused to die _for_ nothing_._

Hans frantically flung his bleeding arm in an arc before him. "Fossegrim!"

The horse reared, but the water did not relent.

The damned voice had fallen unhelpfully silent.

"Nicor! Nixie! N-Neck! Nakki!"

The books had recorded too many names across too many cultures. Which one did the spirit respond to? There was no way he could remember them all.

As the black grew blacker, though, Hans recalled that one name had reminded him of a freckled princess giggling beside him on a balcony, tapping out a jaunty rhythm on the back of his gloved hand. _It's my secret language, _she said shyly. _Well, not _secret-_secret because I'm as subtle as a snowman in summer. It's just a little something I made up so my sister knows it's me when I—_

"Nokk!" Hans cried out.

There was a deafening screech. The current released him.

Hans groped through the darkness and seized the blood anchor. He climbed. Swam.

Woke.

He lurched onto his side, coughing and sputtering.

"Look at that. He survived." Hendrick's voice. "About bloody time. Don't go anywhere while I get—Caleb! I mean, Your Majesty. He's awake."

"I know." Footsteps reverberated through the cold stone beneath his cheek. "Good evening, little brother. It's good to see you well."

His head felt too full, and his body too hollow. Hans rasped out a chuckle. "I look _well_ to you, do I?"

"You rested for six days, did you not?"

"'_Rested'_?" He tried to push himself up only to have his arms buckle. He crashed back down, his hand flailing into something with a metallic clang.

He knew it was the iron basin. And he knew that it was empty.

_Blood, brännvin, black sheep_. _The callous hand thrusting his head into the dark water._

He loathed the feeble tremble in his movements as he jabbed an accusatory finger at the king. "You nearly killed me!"

"You ought to know me better than that, Hans. Unlike you, I do not fail when I mean to take a life. If I wanted you dead, you would be. You're even wearing the evidence of my goodwill."

Hans followed Caleb's meaningful gaze to his left arm; the same one he had raised to point. He stared.

Dried blood caked his forearm. Too much of it. The floor was dark and sticky, no sign of first aid in sight—of course not. _Six days._

Yet when he shakily cleared away the crusted blood, braced for the gleam of bone and eviscerated sinew, there was only a single line of foreign characters carved into his skin. Just like the script in those cursed books, Hans could read it.

And with the echo of the word in his mind, he could _feel_ it. He knew exactly where Caleb stood; that he was picking at a piece of lint on his sleeve. He sensed the cold dispassion radiating from his eldest brother like ripples in the river of his subconscious, and recoiled in disgust because it was easier to think that Caleb didn't _have_ emotions, only cruel masquerades, and—

"Such hostility." The king crouched down. A gloved hand grasped Hans' chin and tipped his head up. It was almost tender. "Have you forgotten that Father is entombed down here, along with all the good kings of the Southern Isles? It is a poor place to blaspheme your reigning sovereign. Especially after he went to such great, selfless lengths to save your life."

Hans struggled to swallow. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

Almost unwillingly, like an invisible force had seized his mind and forced it down a funnel, Hans' eyes landed on the pale underside of Caleb's right arm. His wasn't covered in blood, which made the identical characters running jaggedly along his skin all the more visible, spelling out Hans' most hated word:

_Brother._

"What did you do to me?"

"Manners."

"I don't give a—"

The hand holding up his head retracted and Hans' chin banged into the floor—a sharp pain exploded as his teeth tore open the inside of his cheek. The taste of copper flooded his mouth. It took all his strength simply to turn his head and spit at his brother's polished feet. It left him powerless against the boot that swung at him.

He heard glass shatter. Hendrick cursed. _Water,_ Hans thought. A jug and two glasses. How did he know that?

"_Manners_, Hans."

He rolled onto his back and wheezed out, "May I enquire… about the method… you employed… to save my life… Your Majesty?"

Silence.

Hans craned his head and caught a flash of surprise on Caleb's face as he held a handkerchief to his mouth. It came away splotched red.

Slowly, Caleb's thin lips curled into an amused smirk. "Ah. I see how this works."

"I don't."

The king knelt down once more and wiped a dribble of crimson from Hans' chin. "The method was recorded in your precious books—they are, in fact, journals. Did you not realise? You are lucky that your storm broke the siege and allowed me time to do some light reading, or else—"

"_My _storm?"

The king fixed him with a long, expectant stare.

"I'll not interrupt you again," Hans mumbled. "Sir."

"Wise." The handkerchief moved on to scrub at his bloody arm, heedless of his yelp of pain. "I have to give Lars credit; he translated enough that I could easily make a key. He and Father would have made much faster progress if they had simply asked for my help. I don't believe they knew what they were playing with. Some entries are macabre; borderline heretical, I would say. Commanding nature itself? If my dear brother wasn't frothing in a comatose struggle with a supposedly magical water spirit, I would not have dared to believe it. Fortunately, I discovered a way to bind your soul to the present. To me."

_Blood anchor,_ the voice had whispered to him.

Hans stared at the splotches of crimson on the handkerchief, their blood smudged together. Caleb might not feel pain, but Hans had felt his brother's surprise when his mouth had cut open out of nowhere. The same way Hans could sense his brother's excitement. The hunger. The triumph.

"_No,_" Hans ground out. "Undo it. Fix this."

"Oh, I don't think you want that. Without me, you would not have been able to tame the spirit. I would be talking to a soulless husk."

"Without _me_, you wouldn't have known about the spirits at all."

"In which case, nothing would have spared your life. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Hans. Now you need to prove to me it wasn't an accident." Caleb stood and calmly folded the handkerchief. "It might interest you to know that a sudden storm crushed Gregory's fleet six days ago. A storm that has not stopped raging since you began… communicating with this so-called water spirit."

_Crushed._ "You expect me to halt a _storm_?"

"No; I expect you to prove that you can summon another one."

"You're crazy."

"That was my first thought when you promised me the continent. I am a man of my word, Hans. I expect the same integrity from my own blood."

Another threat, this time less thinly veiled. "What if I had nothing to do with it?"

Caleb just gave him a chilling smile. Hans knew that smile. And he knew that while Caleb had always been closed off, there had been a time when he used to smile earnestly and joke with Aksel. He used to be _normal_ until that night he'd returned to the castle in a dazed stupor, covered in blood that did not belong to him. The servants had screamed and run for the king, leaving fourteen-year-old Hans stupidly rooted in the hall with dolls in his hand, glitter in his hair, and a curious niece clinging to his leg.

He would never forget the way Caleb had looked right at him—_through_ him—and said flatly, _She's dead._

Nor would he forget the way their father had ushered Caleb into his study, re-emerging minutes later with the fabric package Caleb had carried in. _Get rid of it,_ Father had commanded, shoving the bundle at him. Hans almost dropped it. Then, after peeking inside the folds and realising what they contained, he became horribly conscious of _not_ dropping it.

For an eternity, he had stood frozen outside the door, battered by the sounds of his father yelling at his brother and the responsibility of disposing of _this_. If his niece hadn't peeled away and dragged her father back with her, Hans wasn't sure what he would have done. His brother—one that didn't pretend he was invisible—took one look inside the bundle, then stared at their father's closed door for a long time, listening. Eventually, he gestured for Hans to pass him the bundle, grunting, _I'll take care of it. _That had been the end of it.

But no one would save him now.

Something cold flowed beneath Hans' palm; the water from Hendrick's shattered jug had wound its way across the crypt. There was more inside of him. A tide. Perhaps he didn't need saving.

Hans' fingers twitched, almost involuntarily—

—and a torrent of water gushed out of thin air, completely drenching the king of the Southern Isles.

"_I told you it could be done,"_ the voice gloated.

Caleb remained motionless until the water subsided. Then, very slowly, he reached up and pushed sopping hair out of his eyes.

And Hans shivered.

He shivered because the sound of Caleb's laughter was terrifying, and because there was a vengeful stallion prowling beneath his skin, vowing to bring wrath down on both their heads.

He shivered because it had been easier to face the prospect of his insanity than the reality that _something_ was inside his mind. But now he could no longer pretend that the whisper was only a figment of his own delirium.

He shivered because the voice had said "_I"._

OoOoO

It struck like a boat abruptly unmoored in a storm.

The dream still clung to her—_blood in the water, the harsh tang of iron and copper, a vicious wrenching of the soul, bound and chained and furious but helpless_. Then her hand fluttered to her stampeding heart, and she knew for certain that something had been severed.

She knew exactly what it was.

Elsa flew down the hallway in her bare feet, nightgown flapping like flightless wings. Her frantic mind flooded with brilliant auroras pooled into the silhouette of a sword and a motionless figure. _A bridge untethered._

She stopped short of blowing Anna and Kristoff's door off its hinges. And there it was—the familiar, moonlit shape of her little sister safe in bed, blankets tossed in chaotic clumps. "Anna?"

Nothing.

_Too late, too late._ The door handle glistened with ice beneath her quavering fingers. Then it shattered altogether when—finally, blessedly—she heard a loud sniffle.

Elsa almost wept in relief. Anna was okay—of course she was. This was Arendelle, their kingdom, and Elsa had only been down the hall. There were no swords or ships in sight. It _had_ to be safe here.

Elsa battled her nerves as she approached the bed. "Anna? Are you alright?"

Her sister's response was to turn onto her side, facing the other way.

Elsa stopped in surprise. In hurt. Then her panic dissolved into irritation. "I understand you're still upset. But if you didn't want to talk to me, you shouldn't have broken the bracelet. I said I would come if you did."

Another sniffle. Anna curled into a tighter ball. Without Kristoff's company, the bed seemed to dwarf her.

Elsa gave up on waiting for an invitation. She sat down on the edge of the bed and idly studied a shaft of light that crept past the door and across the floor. Elsa was good at reading light through a door; even with her curtains drawn against the outside world, she could distinguish the hour and sometimes even the weather. She could identify passers-by with the rhythm of their gait blinking past and deduce when it was safe to slip into the library for a new book. And it was never a challenge to hear Anna coming, but Elsa could always tell when Anna said '_Okay, bye'_ and remained sitting outside.

The first time it happened, the silence between them had been worse than any fight they'd ever had, and the realisation that they would never _have_ any more fights had shaken Elsa so badly that Anna caught a summer cold falling asleep outside the door.

But it wasn't so simple anymore. It turned out that opening doors wasn't enough to prevent them from ending up on either side of an abyss.

Picking at the linen, Elsa murmured, "For what it's worth, it's not you I'm angry with. It's me… I'm angry with myself."

She hadn't said it to manipulate a response from Anna, but with the admission released into the void between them, Elsa couldn't help expecting one. Because Anna was Anna, and a selfish part of Elsa wished for her little sister to never change.

But Anna did not throw back the blankets and sit up to reassure Elsa. She didn't say anything at all. Instead, she… whimpered.

"Anna?"

Elsa shuffled across the bed. Then she saw the moonlight glistening in her sister's tears and refracting from the silver dust of the broken bracelet scattered across the bedsheet. "A-Anna, what's the matter? Are you okay? Are you feeling sick? I—you're scaring me. Please say something… Anna?"

Anna let out a sob—a strangled, shattered, visceral sound that threw Elsa's heart into her ribcage.

"Anna, please," Elsa said helplessly, touching her sister's shoulder. Anna didn't seem to hear her.

Then Elsa realised that her sister wasn't awake at all.

"Oh, _Anna_…" Elsa brushed aside the hair plastered to her sister's tear-soaked face, thinking of storms and shipwrecks and two weeks that had become _never_. "It's just a dream; it's not real. Please wake up. Everything will be okay."

But no matter how Elsa shook her, Anna remained closed off and rigid as a stone, too tightly ensnared by her nightmare. Still crying in her sleep.

Snow began to drift down.

And Elsa shivered. She knew it was incorporeal—_no misted breath, no goosebumps, no truths threatening to drown her_—but there was no suppressing it. It scrambled her control, sending the temperature into freefall, and it ought to have been simple for her to remedy it with the flick of a hand. Yet it felt easier to bundle Anna up in the blankets and gather her sister in her arms; to tuck Anna's head under her chin and helplessly hum their mother's lullaby. So she did.

Slowly, Anna's sobs eased into hiccups. She stirred ever so slightly, the cold tip of her nose nuzzling into Elsa's neck. Then she settled back down with a soft sigh, warm and relaxed.

Elsa waited until she heard the familiar rhythm of steady breathing, and then released her own exhale. She leaned back against the headboard, no longer able to ignore the weight of her own leaden eyelids as she absently rubbed Anna's arms. "You're okay, Anna. I got you… I'm here."

It could have been a whisper of the wind, or another voice in her head. But it was impossible for Elsa to mistake the sound of her sister's sleepy voice mumbling, "No, you weren't."

OoOoO

The sky was awake. Wait—_the sky was awake._

"Chocolate fudge!" Blankets flew as Anna bolted upright. How many meetings had she missed? Crap crap crap, she'd promised Oskar another riding lesson. He was probably tracking her tardiness down to the second. Why on earth did she still feel so _tired_ despite sleeping in for, what, half the day?

Then her manically wide eyes locked with a pair of startled blue ones across the room, as familiar to her as the sky itself. Anna's thoughts ground to a halt. "Oh. H-Hi."

Elsa looked startlingly tense—was that magic glowing at her fingertips? Anna couldn't have spooked her _that_ badly.

"Good morning." Elsa settled back in the armchair. It didn't escape Anna's notice that her sister only perched on the edge.

_What are you doing in my room? Did you miss me? I missed you. Can we go back to normal already? _Anna attempted to tame her bed hair and coughed out, "I slept in—big time."

"I know. I told Kai to rearrange your schedule."

"You did? Why?"

"You… looked like you needed the rest."

"Right. Well, um, thank you?"

She waited for a _You're welcome_, because Elsa was Elsa—but instead there was only a small, self-conscious smile. And more silence.

It was like they had returned to After; after the fjord thawed and the gates opened. Anna would wake up early and sprint to breakfast in case the dream shattered if she was a moment too late, but Elsa always waited for her. She'd listen patiently while Anna blabbered on about a million meaningless things, and then take her turn to talk about the weather and ask polite questions about Anna's plans for the day. The entire time, Anna would fiddle under the table, running her fingers along the invisible seams of their relationship, trying to find the break between _best friends_ and _strangers._

Now, she reached for something to fidget with… and her fingers closed around air.

"What are you doing?" Elsa asked as Anna began ransacking the bed in alarm.

"My bracelet came off. Gosh, I didn't think that was possible. Does it even have a clasp? I don't even take it off in the bath; your permafrost is that good." She shook out the blanket. A sock and a hair ribbon fluttered free, but no bracelet. "Wait, you can sense it, right? It'll take forever for me to find it in this mess. Pretty please?"

"Anna," Elsa said. "It's gone."

"Don't be silly; it's here somewhere. It can't be _gone_." Because the bracelet wouldn't flurry away as long as Elsa was okay, and her sister was right there, looking weary and uncertain but otherwise fine. No angry spirits or ambitious Southern Isle princes in sight. It was still safe.

Then Elsa cleared her throat and said, "You broke it in your sleep. It looked like you were having a bad dream."

That stopped Anna in her tracks. Had it been one of _those_ bad dreams? Did Elsa know?

Anna's fingers instinctively went to the bracelet once more. She grimaced. "R-Right. Oh shoot, you got woken up by the bracelet breaking, didn't you? I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to apologise, Anna. Though you might want to tell Kai you'll need a new door handle. I may have broken it last night."

"_What_? With your bare hands?"

"And a bit of ice." Elsa paused. "Perhaps a little more than 'a bit'."

Anna was sure Elsa didn't lose control like that anymore, and not with _ice. _Ice meant fear. "I'm sorry. For worrying you."

"It's fine. As long as you're alright."

It was something about the way Elsa wouldn't meet her eyes. Anna caved.

She grabbed the scarf by her pillow (thank God she hadn't ruined _that_, too) and threw it around her shoulders. Then she padded across the room and stopped in front of her surprised sister. "Scooch."

It took a moment. Then Elsa's lips twitched, and she shuffled over to make space. She grunted when Anna dropped down on top of her. "Excuse me, Your Majesty. I believe this seat is made for one."

"Too bad; it's in my room so it's made for _me. _Gosh, you're bony. Is that your elbow in my spleen?"

"I don't see how that is physically possible when you are sitting on my arm. Also, this used to be my room. I'll have you know I used this chair for its intended purpose, as opposed to relegating it to makeshift coat rack duties."

Anna wriggled into a more comfortable position. "Oh, stop judging. You're the one who insisted on moving back into your old room."

"I had a better view there."

"Uh huh. So it had nothing to do with you worrying about the questions people would ask if the queen didn't stay in the royal suite?"

Elsa tugged her nightgown free, avoiding Anna's pointed look. "I see you've been speaking with Councillor Belland. You're thinking like him."

"He came to me, actually. Something about my dork of a sister asking him to look out for me while she did silly things like overthinking about upstaging me and feeding into some hypothetical civil war?"

"It's not hypothetical, Anna. Arendelle has been through so much. There are… perspectives our family must keep in mind. I didn't know how to teach them to you, but Councillor Belland is one of our most experienced advisors."

"And I trust him as much as you do, but seriously; did you have to saddle me with someone so hard to please?"

"You seem to have won him over. I'm assuming that means you also got the rest of the council to stop bickering and start cooperating."

"Ugh. You don't want to know how much paper and dessert it took. Oh, there's one more thing you've missed. I—hold on, there is definitely something digging into my spleen. Aha!" Anna triumphantly yanked out a book. "Oh hey, you were reading _Aren Tales_? Do you remember the volume about gjengangers? The zombies that were creepier than draugr because they still looked human? Father got in so much trouble with Mother for reading that to us."

"I remember. You loved it."

"I remember you didn't. It was the only time _you_ crawled into _my_ bed in the middle of the night. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh! I don't have a dowry anymore; I released it back into the national treasury because it's just going to sit there otherwise. I figured we could use it to negotiate a better deal with Weselton."

"Is that all?" Elsa chuckled. "I thought you'd finally installed a chocolate fountain in the village square."

"Hah. Sorry to disappoint."

Elsa took the book and marked her page with the coral ribbon marker. "You can release my dowry, too. I doubt I'll need it."

Anna had her spiel ready, but she didn't need to use it; there was no doubt or fear in Elsa's voice. Her sister simply sounded content, and it was Anna's favourite thing in the world. "You'd _better_ not need it. As Kristoff says, the best part of marrying you is supposed to be _you._ Anyone who does it just for the gold deserves to meet my infamous right hook."

Elsa let out a soft laugh. Anna felt the tension leave her sister's body. "As the queen, you could refuse to give your blessing. It's rather effective for foiling questionable unions."

"Hey, we're not talking about me here." Anna tucked her legs up only to remember there wasn't enough room. Then Elsa lifted her hands and allowed Anna to settle her legs on her lap. "If you promise to always do what makes you happy, I'll promise never to marry you off for political advantage. Even if you can be a huge stinker sometimes."

"How very generous. I worried you were entertaining the thought of shipping me to Blavenia."

"God, don't even joke about that." Anna noticed Elsa's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Braced for the telltale 'nothing', it stunned her when Elsa winced. Then Anna realised it wasn't a wince at all. "Elsa, are you—are you _shivering_?"

"I'm f-fine…"

"No, you're not; you've got goosebumps! Should I start up the fireplace? Gosh, I wish we had Bruni right now. What's going on, Elsa? And don't you say '_I'm fine'_ one more time, World's Worst Liar," she warned when Elsa opened her mouth.

The look Elsa gave her was a strange one—shadowed, sad, knowing—but before either of them could say another word, a second shudder rattled Elsa's slim frame.

Anna huffed. "Fine, be mysterious. You're definitely explaining yourself later." She bundled her sister up in the scarf and, for good measure, added a long hug. "Is this better?"

"Mhmm." Elsa leaned in, resting her cool forehead against Anna's neck. "I'm not actually cold, you know."

"Did you catch one, then? You know, from walking around in your ice dress and sleeping outdoors with the reindeers?"

"I do not sleep outdoors, and certainly not among reindeers."

"What about Bucky?"

"Bucky is an exception."

Anna wondered how fragile things must be if Elsa was trying this badly to distract her. "Bucky and I fall into a river. Who do you save?"

"I freeze the river and save both."

"Cheat. Fine—Bucky and I fall off a cliff."

"Gale will catch you."

"What? No, what would _you_ do?"

"I'd ask Gale to catch you. Are we playing that game you wanted to introduce on Friday nights? Facts and Decisions?"

"Oh my God, sis—it's Truth or Dare! I thought you'd be better at it than charades." Elsa made a sound of mild affront. "Sorry, not sorry. Except I know you'll never choose 'dare', so if you want to play something, we're doing Twenty Questions. The only rule is that you have to answer truthfully."

"What are the consequences if I don't?"

"I stay mad at you."

"Those are high stakes." Elsa was quiet for a moment. Then she held out a fist. "Alright."

Anna bemusedly stacked her fist atop Elsa's and giggled because it looked like a snowman. "'Alright' what?"

"Alright, let's play your game. Rock Paper Scissors to decide who asks the first question."

"Wait, really?" Anna rolled up the sleeve of her nightgown. "Ooh, you're in for it now. Rock, paper, scissors!"

She lost.

Elsa laughed. "Are you still going for rock every time?"

"Hush, you," Anna grumbled. "I overthink and forget to move my fingers, okay? What's your question?"

Elsa's smile slipped. "Are you really mad at me?"

"Oh." Anna blinked. "I don't know. I thought I was, but Oskar said I looked sad more than anything… and I think I am."

The top of Elsa's head smacked into Anna's chin. "Ah, sorry—you _are_ angry with me?"

"_No_, you paranoid penguin. I was sad, but I'm not anymore because you're a dork and I think it's normal."

"It's normal for me to be a dork," Elsa repeated.

"No! Actually, yes—but no." Anna rubbed a hand along her throbbing jaw. "It's normal to be mad and sad at each other now and then, right?"

To her surprise, Elsa replied wryly, "We wouldn't know anything about normal, would we?"

"No idea what you're on about—we're _so_ normal." Anna lifted a corner of the scarf and squirrelled under it so she was now the one tucked under her sister's arm, unapologetically using Elsa's other arm as a pillow. "My turn: are _you_ mad at me?"

Elsa combed a hand through Anna's bed hair. "No. I never have been."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Okay, good. Because I was bored one night and trimmed your hair while you were asleep." It was a mistake to peek. The sight of Elsa's scandalised expression made Anna blow her cover. "When we were kids! I wouldn't dare touch your hair _now_… or would I?"

"Is that so?" Elsa asked calmly. Then she tickled her.

It occurred to Anna that she could escape by tumbling off the chair. But the part of her that had missed Elsa like air overrode the sensible part of her brain that valued survival, so Anna stayed put and yelped and pleaded for mercy, tears springing into her eyes. And she couldn't breathe, exactly, but she was happy.

"That was for my hair," Elsa said afterwards, eyes glittering with mischief.

Anna flopped back, nursing the stitch in her side. "You didn't even notice! And it was one time!"

She hadn't meant it that way, but they both heard it hanging in the air: _I didn't get the chance to do it again._

"You get another turn," Anna said hastily. "Since I kind of asked two questions. Not that you can't ask me anything at any time, because it's not like I ever lie to you."

Elsa's smile wobbled. She pursed her lips and turned towards the sunny day beyond the window. After a moment, she asked, "What were you dreaming about?"

Oh boy. It was a good thing Elsa was looking away.

Anna swallowed and focused on keeping her voice blithe as she told the truth. "No idea! I don't remember it. Lucky me, right? Who wants to remember their nightmares?"

"You don't remember because it wasn't a nightmare, Anna. That looked like a night terror."

"H-How do you know?" She tried to keep from flinching; she really did. Judging from Elsa's reaction, though, she didn't think she succeeded.

"I know because I used to get them, too. Mother and Father couldn't wake me up; the physician advised against it, in case I woke up confused and… lost further control of my powers. They didn't want me to worry, and I never remembered the episodes. I didn't find out until I was older, after the terrors stopped." Elsa's chagrined gaze shifted back to Anna. "But you seem to know about _your_ night terrors… which means last night wasn't your first episode, was it?"

If it weren't for Kristoff, Anna would have been none the wiser. She would have gone on waking up with swollen eyes and dried tear tracks on her cheeks, unable to fathom why she couldn't stop yawning. She wouldn't have been an accomplice to Kristoff's anxious recounts, and she would have had nothing to hide from Elsa.

If she had listened to Kristoff and told Elsa earlier, she could have lied. She could have said Kristoff had heard her sleep-talking about storms and shipwrecks instead of _gone too far_ and _warm hugs_. But now it was too late, because it was painfully obvious that Anna wouldn't have kept it from Elsa if the truth was that simple.

"This is my fault," Elsa whispered. "It's because I left you behind and… I… Olaf…"

"You're both fine now!" Anna scrambled off and knelt in front of Elsa with a desperate smile. "_I'm_ fine. I'm happy and life is great, and honestly, I don't know why I'm having these dreams—terrors, whatever they're called. It would make more sense if they were about Caleb and his godawful war. It's not your fault, Elsa. Trust me."

"I do. I trust you, Anna… but I don't believe you." Elsa inhaled shakily, drawing the scarf closer around her. "You only calmed down when my powers made the room _colder._"

_She ought to be shivering in her damp clothes, but it was too warm in the cave and she couldn't stop thinking about how much Olaf loved summer. How Elsa smiled when Anna picked sunflowers to put in their hair. How both of them were gone forever._

"What about you, huh?" Anna blurted desperately. "Since when did the cold start bothering you?"

Elsa stiffened. "It doesn't; I'm not cold."

"Then what's with the shivering? What aren't _you_ telling me?"

"I've been _trying_ to tell you." Elsa threw up her hands, and a sprinkle of snow landed in her lap. "I just—I didn't know how to say it. That's why I made you this scarf; I told myself I would talk to you when I finished knitting it. But then the refugees arrived and I upset the spirits—"

"Are you dying?"

Elsa's mouth snapped shut. Anna's did, too, when she heard her own question spoken aloud. It made her vision swim, but she focused on Elsa; searching, begging. "Please. I can't lose you… n-not again."

The armchair screeched across the floor as Elsa fell to her knees. She wrapped her arms tightly around Anna. "Oh, Anna… no, _no._ It's not like that. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Anna clung to her sister, sniffling. "You _died_ in Ahtohallan and now everything's okay but you're shivering and… and… what else was I supposed to think?"

Elsa kept apologising until it sounded like a lullaby. She rubbed Anna's back the way their mother used to; in the shape of an infinity symbol. _That's how much you are loved,_ Mama would say.

Then Elsa took a deep breath and whispered, "I shiver because I remember, Anna. How it felt."

"How what felt?"

"I _know_, Anna."

With her head against Elsa's chest, Anna felt more than heard the crack in her sister's voice. That was her first warning.

"I know that it hurt. I know what it feels like to have your breath turn to ice in your lungs. When your blood runs so cold your fingers burn like ants are crawling beneath your skin. When your eyes sting because you're afraid they'll stay closed forever if you blink even once."

Anna drew back, lips parted speechlessly.

_You saved me,_ her sister had said back then. _Again._ And Anna had accepted that was all Elsa would share about her last moments, because the past was in the past and for once, Anna didn't want to know. There was no reason to imagine her sister lying somewhere cold and soulless and… gone.

Except, listening to Elsa now, Anna realised she wouldn't have had to imagine anything at all. Not when it sounded so frighteningly familiar.

"You didn't tell me you _froze_ in Ahtohallan," Anna croaked out.

"You didn't tell me the truth, either. You said you didn't remember."

"I didn't." Anna's protest sounded weak even to her ears.

"That's what I tried to tell myself," Elsa said, sounding anguished. "But what are the chances that _I_ am the only one of us to remember what it was like to turn to ice?"

Anna opened and closed her mouth, gripping her sister's arms. Then she shook her head. "So what? What does it matter if I remember the pain?"

"It matters to me, Anna. Knowing that I hurt you more than—"

"But it's already done, Elsa. You didn't mean to hurt me, and even if you did, it doesn't change anything, does it? It's in the past and we can't go back. Just like how the trolls removed my memories, and Mother and Father separated us. Maybe it was the right thing to do; maybe it wasn't."

"It was. They kept you safe from me."

"It still hurt us, though, didn't it? Maybe we could have been closer. Maybe we would have ended up getting sick of each other. We're never going to know, because we can't get those years back. But we're still here, aren't we? Oh, stop that; you're going to hurt yourself." Anna pulled at her sister's white-knuckled fists until they eased open, allowing her to slide her hands into Elsa's.

Elsa squeezed. "I don't think we would have gotten sick of each other," she murmured.

Anna squeezed back. "Same. And yes, you did freeze my heart three years ago. I do remember it. And it did hurt; it hurt the entire time Kristoff rushed me back to the castle. You know what, though? Even if we could go back, and my true love's kiss was only one step away, nothing would stop me from doing it again—and don't say it's wrong. It was my choice, and I chose you, Elsa. You don't get to regret my decisions for me, because I definitely don't."

For a long while, Elsa gazed wordlessly down at their hands; she held Anna's as if they were newborn doves, fragile and flighty. "Have I told you how incredible you are?"

"You called me the sun. That's pretty big. Like, literally big."

Elsa rubbed a thumb across the back of Anna's hand. "It makes it dreadfully hard to deserve you."

"Too bad; you're still stuck with me for the rest of our lives. And Elsa?" Anna waited until her sister looked up. "This cold you're feeling? The freezing? It gets better. One day, it'll fade and heal just like a childhood scar from falling down the stairs."

"I've never fallen down any stairs."

"Oh, right. I guess a _clocktower_ doesn't count."

"You caught me." Her sister smiled. "I can tell you the night terrors get better, too."

"Does that mean we'll have sleepovers until Kristoff gets back? Can we make blanket forts?"

"Anna."

"Fine, _I'll_ make the blanket forts. You can make hot cocoa and grab the snacks."

"Before that, there's one more thing I have to say."

Anna reigned in the urge to conceal her anxiety with another joke. "I'm all ears."

Elsa took in a breath. "It took me so long to tell you everything because I didn't know what I could do to make it right. Now I realise I was only thinking of ways to apologise. I'd like to try something new this time." She squeezed Anna's hands again. "Thank you, Anna."

Anna cocked her head questioningly.

"Thank you," Elsa continued softly, eyes shining, "for seeing the best in everyone and everything. For lying to protect me and unconditionally forgiving each time that I've hurt you. Thank you for always saving me; when I lost control of my powers, when I went too deep, and, before that, when the only thing that gave me hope was the sound of you knocking on my door every day. Thank you for making loving you the easiest, most priceless thing in the world."

The sky was awake, but when Elsa took off the scarf and waved it over Anna's shoulders, there was a brief moment when the scarf blotted out the light, transforming into a personal canvas of starlight above their heads. Then it settled, leaving Anna to blink back tears that fell anyway.

She almost couldn't get the words out. "I… you're welcome?"

Elsa let out a choked laugh as she pressed their foreheads together, whispering, "Thank you for being born, Anna."

OoOoO

"What do you think?"

"About what, Your Highness?"

The queen's husband jerked his head towards the closed mahogany doors through which their hosts had retreated to 'discuss Arendelle's proposition in private'. "Do you think they'll jump?"

"I believe it would be sensible for men of their station to walk," Hakon replied.

Kristoff flushed. "Jump on board, I mean. With Anna's—our offer."

"The Duke is not a fool. He will accept."

"Isn't that the prince's call?"

Hakon's disinterested gaze roamed the meeting chambers. Weselton was keen on both art and vanity, which meant the cavernous room was stacked to the ceiling with portraits of royalty, each sporting an impeccably shiny head. "What are your impressions of Prince Fredrik?"

There was a contemplative pause. "Young? Talkative?"

"Unhealthily obsessed with wigs," muttered the white-haired female soldier standing over Kristoff's shoulder, the picture of vigilance aside from the faint smirk on her face.

"Petra!" Kristoff chided with a grin. "He's too young for that. What makes you think he's wearing a wig?"

"It flapped, sir."

"He's a figurehead," Hakon said. "He hides behind his uncle and wastes his time studying dance, of all things. Even when Fredrik becomes king, I suspect the Duke will continue 'ruling' until he trips into his grave. And he ought to know that if he does not accept our olive branch now, there is no hope of winning back Arendelle's graces in a hurry. Our queen was astute in her observation that Weselton needs us more than we need them. We are paying for the iron, but the grain and crossbow prototypes are a chance for them to repair relations between our two nations. Anyone can see it's in their best interests to ally with us should the Southern Isles make a move."

Hakon leaned forward and picked up his cup of tea, which had gone cold during the meeting. "Would you like me to repeat that?"

Kristoff started. He had tugged his collar so many times that his ascot was skewed. "Sorry? Was I supposed to, uh, remember all that?"

"You are not 'supposed' to do anything I suggest, sir. But judging from the way he tried to wear us down by making us wait days for an audience—and now hours for a decision he would already have made the second we laid out our cards—the Duke will return determined to drive a hard bargain. It would be easier for you to keep the weasel in its cage if you were familiar with our counterarguments."

"You're not going to give them yourself?"

Hakon sipped his tea. "Does Your Highness wish for me to do so?"

"I'm not giving you an order or anything. I just thought, since you're so good at this foreign relations business…" Kristoff trailed off, and his thick eyebrows drew together. "This is something political, isn't it?"

"You are husband to the queen of Arendelle, sir, and travelled days in the discomfort of a carriage to represent our nation. It was already an insult for Weselton to keep you waiting, and if I were to settle this negotiation without your input…"

"We'll get our iron and crossbows today," Kristoff finished, "but tomorrow people will say that Anna married a pushover. Got it." He scrubbed his hands over his face, then gulped down his tea and slapped his cheeks. "Alright. Tell it to me again."

Hakon did not want to admit his surprise. He repeated himself and waited as Kristoff muttered each line back to himself.

"If in doubt, mention that we are in no shortage of ice and would be willing to lower tariffs on those exports as a sign of goodwill."

"What will that achieve? Ice may be my life, but most people don't value it the way I do."

"Oh, it's not about value. The duke will understand."

It took a moment, and then Kristoff's confusion cleared. "Elsa."

This time, Hakon had a harder time keeping his eyebrows from rising. "Correct. The Duke fears sorcery. We will need to lean on that if we are to push through Her Majesty's non-negotiable term of his… specific manner of apology to the princess."

Kristoff twisted his cufflinks between his fingers. Finally, he said, "You really are good at your job, aren't you?"

"Of course, sir." Hakon placed down his teacup. "You are only here to ensure I do it properly, after all."

"Not exactly. Believe it or not, it turns out this is also my first stint as Arendelle's official ambassador. Anna forgot to mention that until the morning we left. That's why I was late."

"Then I offer you my sincerest congratulations. Also, you do not need to explain yourself to me."

Their heads turned as muffled voices rose in volume, along with the click of hasty steps. Their hosts were returning.

Kristoff straightened his jacket and gave his collar one last tug. "Yeah, well. Maybe if you'd explained yourself a little better to Anna, she wouldn't have asked me to keep an eye on you. Do you know how big that is, coming from her?"

There it was. Hakon had expected it to either come up in their first hour of cramped travel, or not at all. He'd also expected less tact from a man who seemed to forget his own title half the time. It reminded him of another ambassador; a fidgety princess who would have devoured all the cookies and made up stories for the portraits on the walls, trying to make him chuckle. She had surprised him, too.

Hakon did not like surprises. Surprises meant being wrong.

Surprises led to doors being thrown open, and guards storming in with swords drawn.

Their own contingent rallied with shouts of alarm, but it was futile. In seconds, their cluster of Arendellian green had been cornered by a sea of Weselton red.

"What the—what's going on?" Kristoff whirled towards Hakon. "What did you do?" he demanded.

Before Hakon could answer, the Duke of Weselton's voice rang out above the clamour—

"_Arrest these murderers!"_

* * *

A/N: I have spent so long trying to get this chapter right that I don't even know what to say except THANK GOODNESS! This contained a scene I've envisioned since the start of the story and it was a struggle to get it right. Anna's birthday vibes may have seeped in. Happy birthday, Queen Anna!

I also made a masterlist of my stories and other random stuff like art. It's pinned at the top of my tumblr so you no longer have to hunt through the tags.

Thank you for waiting and reading!

P.S. I changed all mentions of 'Axel' to 'Aksel'. Same character. The former was the first to come up when I googled names, but now I like the look of the second one better. It seems more appropriate.

P.P.S. Prince Fredrik of Weselton is a character I made up in chapters 10 and 11 of The Sky Is Awake.

P.P.P.S. I funnel my procrastination into modern AU oneshots that I've started uploading as a collection called 'These Days Are Precious'. Unlike this fic, it's fluffy and non-stressful!


	12. A Whole New Situation

**The Next Unknown**

_12 – A Whole New Situation_

OoOoO

There wasn't enough space for him to roll with the fall. Kristoff hit the cell floor hard, the iron door clanging shut behind him. He heard four more thuds and disgruntled shouts, a string of snarled curses from Petra, followed by the march of fading footsteps. The great dungeon doors slammed.

Kristoff pushed himself up onto all fours and coughed, ears ringing. "Everyone okay? Petra?"

"The pox be with you, you scurvy-mouthed pig sniffers—yes, sir, I'm unharmed. Yourself?"

"Fine. This is nothing compared to falling two hundred feet off the North Mountain. Ronny? Herman? You guys good?"

The other guards responded, sounding ruffled but otherwise unharmed. Kristoff couldn't see them and assumed by the echo that they were in another section of the dungeon.

He hesitated before asking, "Erling?"

Silence. Of course—Erling was probably sharing a toast with the Duke of Weselton, snorting over how simple it had been to deal with the brainless mountain man. _Bjorgman, you big idiot._

Then Petra said, "I think he's injured, sir. "

Kristoff's head snapped up. The guards had tossed them into individual cells; Kristoff's was bracketed by a wall on the left and Petra's cell to his right.

Shuffling over to the bars, Kristoff made out a crumpled figure in the cell beside Petra's. "What happened? Did he hit his head?"

"… fine," came a strained hiss. "Landed bad. Dislocated shoulder."

Kristoff exhaled. "Don't move it. Focus on relaxing your muscles; it might pop back in by itself."

"Curious that they didn't bind our hands. If you lie down close enough and at the right angle, I can try reaching through the bars to set it for you," Petra offered.

"I'm _fine,_" Erling snapped back, panting. "Not the first time it's happened."

It didn't seem to be his first experience with pain, either. Kristoff hadn't exactly expected woeful screaming, but he was surprised to see someone as… polished as Erling handling injury so well.

Petra raised a grey eyebrow when Kristoff unbuckled his belt and passed it through the bars to her. "Strangulation, sir?"

"_Sling_, Petra."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

It took a while for Erling to prop himself up against the bars so Petra could wind the belt around his arm and neck. Kristoff watched them, absently nursing his jaw; he'd turned his head at the last second and been rewarded with scratches instead of cracked bone.

Eventually, he asked, "Was it you, Erling? Did you have anything to do with this?"

Another stretch of silence.

Then Erling let out a grunt as Petra finished cinching up the makeshift sling. "Sorry, Councillor," she chirped. "My hand slipped. I imagine the pain must be so great that you didn't hear His Highness' question."

"I heard him," Erling replied acerbically. "Forgive me for trying to think of ways to get us out of this situation, instead of obsessing over how we got into it. I'm intrigued that you would think to suspect me before you suspect Weselton of fabricating accusations, sir."

"Oh, trust me, I definitely haven't forgotten about him. The list of people I trust has always been on the short side, so don't start feeling special. I know what the Duke did in Arendelle. But there's also the fact that we've been staying as guests under his roof for the better part of a week. If _I _was planning to frame someone, I wouldn't have bothered to waste food and accommodation on them, let alone suffer a two-hour meeting before making my move."

"An astute rationale, Your Highness." It almost sounded like approval, and hearing it in Erling's disaffected drawl only made Kristoff feel like he was being toyed with.

"Just give me a straight answer, Erling. We don't know if the Duke is lying. But _you_ know if you killed someone."

"How would I have had the chance to commit murder, Your Highness, when you have not let me out of your sight since we left Arendelle?"

"You tell me. You could have planned something before that. Or are you working with someone here? We're in the Duke's territory; it would be child's play to double cross you and leave you here to rot."

"If your mind is already made up, then there is nothing more for me to say."

Petra looked to Kristoff. "I can still strangle him in four different ways, sir. Possibly five."

Kristoff returned a half-smile of appreciation. He didn't think Anna had told the guards to be cautious of Erling so much as asked them to prioritise Kristoff's orders; either way, Petra and the others were nothing short of professional. Yet they also hadn't been subtle about their loyalty towards him, which Kristoff had chalked down to rank until he remembered the many times he had stuck his head out of the stuffy carriage to debate the merits of horses versus reindeers with Ronny. When insomnia had struck on their first night in Weselton, Herman and Petra had accompanied him to an inn and dared him to arm wrestle the bartender for free drinks. Maybe they weren't simply following him because their queen had ordered it.

And look where his excellent leadership had landed them.

Kristoff yanked off the ascot and shed his jacket; with the belt no longer digging into his hips, it felt like the rest of the chains had broken. _Looking_ like Prince Kristoff hadn't made him feel any more qualified to be representing Arendelle. In the meeting, he'd contributed less than young Prince Fredrik, who at least hadn't tried to drown his nerves with tea. Down here, without Anna hanging from his arm or Elsa looking out for him from a distance, Kristoff had nothing.

But Erling _had_ tried to help him just before the arrest.

Sighing, Kristoff pushed a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not asking if you sold me out. It wouldn't bother or surprise me because, no offence, I don't much care what you think of me. And I think that goes both ways, because I haven't been subtle about it. If you wanted my respect, you would have tried harder to earn it. So I'm not expecting your pledge of loyalty or whatever—all I'm asking is whether you betrayed Anna."

"That sounds like the same question to me."

"Erling. Yes or no?"

The gleam of Erling's cracked glasses caught the light as he turned his head to the side. "Would you believe me if I said 'no'?"

Kristoff rubbed at a chipped nail on his left thumb. "Honestly? I don't know."

"Good."

"_Good_?" He saw Erling open his mouth, but the creak of the dungeon doors cut off whatever explanation he would have offered.

Kristoff scrambled to his feet as guards marched down the aisle, and it wasn't until they parted that he saw the diminutive man escorted in their midst. Petra wasted no time launching into a fresh round of threats, but the Duke of Weselton stormed past her cell without so much as a glance.

It wasn't a surprise when he stopped in front of Kristoff's cell—but the vehemence in the Duke's distinctly squeaky voice was another matter. "Where is it?" he demanded.

Kristoff frowned. "Where is what?"

At a sharp flick of a hand, the guards on either side of the Duke upended the bags they were carrying. A miscellany of items crashed to the ground. Kristoff spotted the familiar pompom of the hat Anna had knitted him for Christmas last year and realised it was his own belongings strewn over the floor. It seemed like only yesterday Petra had raised an eyebrow at his bulging pack when he'd hoisted it onto the carriage. It was Bulda's fault, but Kristoff blamed himself for telling her that he was going away without Anna or Elsa, causing her to fret and bury him under kisses and "supplies for the road, just in case you need a pick-me-up".

Now it was all there in a heap. The Duke's men must have gone through their rooms.

"Where. Is. It?" the Duke repeated. His uniform was dishevelled and his white hair, previously combed to a lustrous shine, was now in disarray. The most startling change, though, was in his eyes; they were wild and dilated. He looked nothing like the skittish schemer Kristoff had sat across less than an hour ago. "_Where is the antidote?_"

"I don't know what you're—"

"Lies!" Kristoff leaped back when the Duke snatched a spear off the nearest guard, raking the blade across the bars like an ominous instrument. "It has to be you!"

"Mind yourself! You're speaking to Prince Kristoff of Arendelle." Both Petra's tone and stance were tensed, but she made no sudden movements. Her eyes flitted between Kristoff and the weapon in the Duke's unpredictable hand.

"Oh, I know exactly who I'm speaking to," the Duke hissed. "Sneaking in to 'foster goodwill' and 'stand together', so presumptuous with your terms; demanding I _apologise_ to that—"

"You don't want to finish that sentence," Kristoff warned quietly.

"Or what? What will you do to me from your obvious position of power, _Prince Kristoff?_" The Duke struck the bars again. Kristoff had to clench his fists to keep from flinching.

"You slimy weasel—"

"No, Petra," Kristoff said without taking his eyes off the spear. "Don't give him a reason."

The Duke's eyes narrowed behind his round glasses, which sat askew on his blotched nose. "Oh, but I _do _want a reason. I want to know why you didn't pick your battle with me_. _It was me who ordered the attack on your precious Snow Queen and was punished—punished!—for doing the right thing. Why didn't you go after _me_?"

"We _didn't_ go after you!"

"Stop! Lying!" The spear struck metal over and over, thickening the air with a chaotic cacophony.

Kristoff inched back, struggling to follow the Duke's frenzied movements. All it would take was a reckless thrust through the bars, or a glancing blow at the wrong angle to snap the spearhead and—

"I take it he's not dead then?" Erling climbed awkwardly to his feet, favouring his injured arm. He adjusted his glasses and cast a cool look at the breathless Duke, who spun around with a tempestuous glower. "The poison hasn't killed our dear Prince Fredrik. Not yet, anyway."

_Fredrik_ had been poisoned? That flighty young prince who hadn't stopped yawning throughout the meeting? Whom Kristoff had shaken hands with mere hours ago? He'd been perfectly fine when he and the Duke had stepped out for a discussion. How could he suddenly be on his deathbed?

How did Erling know?

Then again, even Kristoff got the impression that, had anyone else's life been in danger, the Duke would not be so riled up.

Darting down the cells, the Duke jabbed a shaking finger at Erling. "You! Of course it was you! I should have known—give me the antidote!"

Erling ignored him, instead tapping his chin in thought. "Well, now we have a problem, don't we? You arrested us for murder, Your Grace. That was rather hasty of you; it's almost as if _you_ are the one with a vested interest in Prince Fredrik's demise."

"How dare you! Fredrik is… I have raised him since he was a boy!"

"Magnanimous of you, yes. But it's no secret how you felt about the late king; you believe your sister would still be alive if she hadn't married into the royal family. You nurtured Fredrik after his parents' deaths because he was of no threat to you. Now that he's months away from being crowned King of Weselton, you must have realised he's no longer cute to keep around. I respect your patience, waiting for the perfect scapegoat. Who better to frame than a convoy from Arendelle, the kingdom none will openly admit they fear?"

It happened in a flash. Erling reacted instantly, as if he had expected the attack—but it almost wasn't quick enough. He stumbled back just as the spear stabbed through the space he had occupied, almost piercing his chest as he flattened himself to the wall.

Breathing hard, the Duke pushed his face into the bars to gain reach. His strikes were sloppy, but there was a vicious desperation behind them. And were those… tears? "Give—me—the—antidote!" He punctuated each word with haphazard stabs. "I'm—_not_—losing—him!"

Erling moved, calm and decisive as water flowing downstream. He batted aside the spear, then seized the shaft, holding it in place. Shouts of alarm rang out as the Duke lost his balance—and then there were swords drawn and three more spears trained on Erling. With the guards' greater reach, they could easily impale him.

But Erling ignored them all. He took a half-step forward, placing himself squarely within range. Slowly, without breaking eye contact with the Duke, he raised the spearhead to his own throat and held it steady. "Go on."

Kristoff's lips went dry. No one moved. No one breathed.

The Duke laughed, causing the blade to tremble dangerously. "You think I won't?"

"Oh no, Your Grace; I know you will. I also know you will come to your senses when you see my blood. Because you know that between our two parties, you are the only one with an actual motive to harm Prince Fredrik. We don't. Even if we did, you know it makes no sense for Queen Anna to risk someone of my station, let alone her own husband. We were in the same room eating the same food and drinking from the same pot of tea. The prince was hale and hearty when the two of you left for your private discussion. If we poisoned him during the meeting, you don't think our priority would have been to escape as soon as the deed was done? Why were we still standing around when you charged back in with your premature accusation of murder? We don't have the antidote, and even if you caught the true culprit, you know they wouldn't be stupid enough to carry it on them—if it exists at all."

"Lies!" Spittle flew from the Duke's lips. "You are the last outsiders we allowed in since we heard of the failed siege on the Southern Isles. We've been careful. No one else has gotten close to Fredrik. It has to be you!"

"Then do it." Erling released the spear; without his steadying grip, it dipped and wavered, its tip grazing his shirt. "When the time comes for you to justify your actions, though, you'll remember that the Snow Queen doesn't take kindly to threats against her kingdom, let alone her family. Then you'll be thankful it was _my_ blood you spilled, and not that of our queen's husband. You're welcome."

The Duke's expression was fierce yet broken. "It has to be you," he insisted.

Erling's voice dropped. "You know better. It's too late for Fredrik, no matter who you threaten."

"No. It has to be you… it _has_ to be." The Duke's wiry body quivered.

To think that Kristoff's greatest worry throughout the trip had been embarrassing Anna—now there was a young prince dying above them, and a lethal weapon pointed at a man he still didn't know if he could trust. For all he knew, the Duke was spinning another elaborate web of lies.

Yet Kristoff recognised the look on the Duke's face, too. He'd seen it before when Elsa had clung to Anna's crystallised body, and in the way Anna's expression had crumpled like a flower robbed of sunlight when he'd asked, _'Hey, where's Elsa?'_ Kristoff knew what it felt like to lose his only landmark. It was too visceral to fake.

"I'm sorry."

When the Duke turned dazedly towards him, Kristoff licked his lips and held the old man's gaze. "I'm sorry. You don't have to believe it, but I am."

The Duke just stared at him. Then, like a flag without wind, he sagged. The spear tilted down and hit the floor by Erling's feet with a dull _clink_, then slipped from the Duke's hand altogether.

Erling took slow steps backwards until his back was once more pressed to the wall, this time seemingly for support rather than safety. His gaze caught on Kristoff's, and they shared a wordless look before simultaneously averting their eyes.

Kristoff ended up staring restlessly at Anna's hat, lying among his discarded belongings. He shouldn't have packed it, he thought. Now it was dusty and stained with reminders of his helplessness, sitting in a foreign nation's dungeon. He shouldn't have volunteered; shouldn't have believed he could actually do anything to help her. To help Arendelle.

Closing his eyes, Kristoff reached back in time for that tranquil morning in the stables; early morning air, Anna stepping onto his shoes as she tugged him down to meet her, her tantalising grin soft against his lips. _Who did you think you were?_ He was still hers; always would be. But, prince consort or not, there was no way around the fact that he would always be _him_. Kristoff Bjorgman: ice harvester, reindeer-whisperer, raised by trolls…

Raised by trolls.

Kristoff's eyes flew open. He threw himself to the floor and stuck his arm through the bars.

"Hey!" Something hard jabbed between his shoulder blades. "Get back in your cell!"

The sharp pressure stalled. "Touch him _one_ more time," Petra snarled. "I dare you."

Gritting his teeth, Kristoff strained as far as he could, his hand scrabbling blindly across the floor. The bars squeezed tight around his biceps. Just when he was on the verge of dislocating a shoulder, too, his fingers snagged on what felt like a strap. He yanked the pack towards him, shouting, "Wait! I might be able to help!"

From the corner of his eye, he saw the Duke stop.

Kristoff brushed off Anna's hat and tucked it carefully into his pocket. Then he rummaged through the pack, tossing aside clothes and souvenirs, cursing himself for not paying attention when Bulda had rattled off the list of things she had stuffed into his arms. But he knew his Ma, and she had never in his life sent him off on a trip without—

Kristoff's hand closed around something small and hard. A piece of home.

The Duke was eyeing him. Swallowing, Kristoff rose into a crouch and held out a handful of multicoloured crystals, gleaming despite the dim lighting. "Try giving these to Fredrik. They have healing properties."

The Duke recoiled. "You're a sorcerer, too?"

"No, but it's about time you started calling it 'magic'. These crystals were given to me by… wise beings with healing powers. You don't need magic to use them; just put them near him. They're not very powerful and I don't know how effective they are against poison. They might not work at all—but if they do, it might buy us some time."

"Time for what? As your political pet pointed out, the assassin must be long gone."

"Then find your own cure! Call your apothecaries. Ask for _help._" Kristoff looked at the Duke. "Just like we came here to do."

"How do I know this isn't part of your scheme?"

"Are you seriously—"

"What do we have to lose?" It was Erling. The Duke's head snapped towards him. "You've already got us here—and the way you're acting, it looks like Fredrik doesn't have much to lose either. But you? He's your only family."

The Duke eyed the crystals. Scowled at Erling. Frowned at Kristoff. But there was a light behind those tired eyes.

Kristoff might be Anna's weakness, but he was tired of being weak. Ignoring the guards and their weapons, he reached through the bars, grabbed the Duke's gloved hand, and dropped the crystals into them. "Here. Now don't tell me we can't trade this thing called 'trust' without writing up another twenty-page agreement."

OoOoO

There was no point pretending she was even vaguely comfortable.

Elsa shifted onto one side. She adjusted the cushion ten different ways. She rolled onto her other side, then returned to her back. She tried holding the book up with one hand, but her arm shook. She couldn't turn the page.

Finally, she let out a sigh."I don't understand how you—"

"Gah!" Anna's shriek made Elsa fumble and drop the book—it was a good thing that each volume of _Aren Tales_ was relatively slim, or the force of one landing on her face might have shattered her nose.

"What happened? Are you okay?" There was so much clutter piled in front of the couch that Elsa still couldn't see a thing when she levered herself up on an elbow. Her movement only dislodged the palisade of cushions Anna had heaped on her, and Elsa hastily snapped up a barrier of ice before the avalanche demolished the precarious stacks of paper on the coffee table.

"You scared me," came Anna's huffed response from across the study. "I think I drew on my face. Did I draw on my face?"

"I can't tell you because I can't see you." Elsa picked the cushions off the floor, struggling to find space for them on the couch without once more burying herself. "Perhaps if you'd let me—"

"Don't even think about it. Okay, I definitely drew on my face."

"I'll just straighten up the room. I promise not to disturb your… filing system."

"Nuh uh! You're supposed to be relaxing. Queen's orders."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Elsa said as she stacked the cushions into a pyramid; the most stable of structures, "but I think you and I have slightly different definitions of 'relaxing'."

"What do you mean? What could be more relaxing than lying down in a cloud of cushions and reading a book?"

"Sitting up properly and reading without aching arms, or the paranoia of dropping the book on my face?"

"But that's the best part! It's intrinsic to the relaxation experience."

Chuckling to herself, Elsa sat up. Anna was still seated at the desk, a pen balanced on her upper lip as she frowned down at a document. She twirled a second pen between her fingers and appeared utterly engrossed in her reading; a sight Elsa still needed to get used to. But there was still the streak of smudged ink adorning her sister's chin, reminding her that some things never changed.

After a while, Anna arched over the back of the chair, reaching for the sunlight streaming through the window behind her. When she noticed Elsa watching her, she let the pen roll off her lip and caught it without looking, eyes playfully narrowed. "What? Never seen a diligent queen at work?"

Elsa picked up her book and checked it for creases before marking her page. "Arguably, no. Mother did many things for the kingdom, but I don't remember paperwork bringing her any joy."

This time, it was Anna's silence that drew attention.

"What's the matter?" Elsa asked.

"Oh? Nothing." Anna rolled the two pens between her hands. Hesitating. "Just… the other day, someone mistook me for Mother."

There was the familiar twinge, like the chime of a gentle wind passing through a dreamcatcher. There had been a great gust, once, when Elsa had stood in the chapel with the orb and sceptre in her shaking hands, unable to keep herself from glancing towards Anna in the front row because it had been a lifetime since she'd allowed herself to look at her sister properly. Anna had been her anchor among the pews of unfamiliar faces. But Anna hadn't been the only one Elsa kept seeing in her sister's features that day.

"It's true; you do look very much like her."

"Sure, but have _you_ looked in a mirror? All you need to change is your hair, and voila: Mother."

Elsa shook her head as she made her way across the room. "You have everything else of hers, though."

"You think so?"

"Smile for me?"

Anna's face split into a perplexed grin.

Elsa laughed. "Now _that_ is Father. This, though…" She leaned across the desk and rubbed at the ink on Anna's chin. "This is all you."

Her sister beamed back. "Hey, Elsa? I don't understand crop yield."

"It's actually quite a simple method of estimation. It only involves counting the average number of pods in a one-metre-square area that is representative of the paddock. Then you count the average number of grains within a pod, multiply it with the grain weight and…" Elsa noticed the look of suppressed laughter on Anna's face. "That wasn't a serious question, was it?"

"Now _that_," Anna guffawed, pointing at Elsa, "is all you. The tutors never taught us how to calculate it ourselves. Is there anything you don't know?"

"Why you're so amused, for starters." Elsa picked up the report and flipped through it. "You can ask Councillor Fisker next time you have a question about crop yield."

"No! I'm sorry. Have mercy on your favourite sister? I'm too hungry to understand a thing in this agricultural report. Even though we literally just ate lunch. Is it too early for a snack? I need ice cream. Elsa, make me chocolate ice cream."

Picking up a pen, Elsa smiled. "You know I can't."

"We should ask Ahtohallan for an upgrade of your powers." Anna flopped over the desk. "How can I be this tired? We literally did nothing yesterday! We slept half the day away."

They had. They'd stayed squished together in that armchair talking about everything and nothing, waiting for Kai because Elsa had asked him to rearrange the day, not cancel it. Yet their only interruptions had come in the form of swift knocks on the door (which had swayed "because _someone _broke my handle", Anna had pointed out) at lunch and dinnertime. Both times, the hallway had been empty but for a trolley laden with sandwiches, pancakes, and chocolate fondue. The thought of Gerda sprinting out of sight to give them privacy had Elsa and Anna both snorting milk up their noses.

There was a kingdom to run, the threat of war on the horizon, and the Nokk was still missing. But yesterday, the two of them _had_ done nothing and, somehow, the world was still waiting when they woke the next morning. Along with an inordinate amount of paperwork on Anna's desk, which they had managed to halve before Elsa had been marched to the couch and commanded to 'relax'.

Adding a comment to the margin of Councillor Fisker's report, Elsa slid it back across the desk. "Ask him about this before you sign it. Everything else looks fine." She reached for the next document in the pile.

"Hey!" Anna's hand slapped down on top of hers. "We agreed to stick to our own jobs: I'm doing queen stuff and you're researching spirit stuff."

"Ow," Elsa said dryly. "You need a break, Anna."

"No, you."

"You're right; I do need one."

"Wait, what? We've only been doing this for, what, eight minutes? You can't take a break from a break. That's not how relaxing works."

"I can't relax anyway, Anna."

"Sure you can! You love reading. Have some tea. Is it because there's stuff all around the couch? Are you claustrophobic? Oh shucks, I should have thought about that. Let me—"

Elsa gave Anna's hand a squeeze, ending her sister's ramble before it ran away from them. "No, that's not it. I can't relax because the more I read, the more helpless I feel. Olaf and I went through everything we could find on the Nokk in the library: myths, sightings, fables… I've finished the _Aren Tales_ series three times, and all I'm doing is wasting time. Reading about the Nokk doesn't bring me any closer to finding out what happened. Pabbie's vision showed the Nokk appearing in the future, but I don't know what that means. I don't have any other leads."

"Okay, pause," Anna said slowly. "You keep mentioning this vision, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Elsa blinked. "Did I not tell you?"

"I think you kind of started to after we booted out Niklas? Something about ships? Then we started shouting at each other, stopped talking, blah blah, night terrors, hot cocoa, sleep—and now we're here. So, um, I don't think so?"

For once in her life, it hadn't been intentional. Anna was right; so much had happened so quickly that there were many things Elsa hadn't had the chance to explain to her sister—Pabbie's vision, Ahtohallan going dark, the tale of Vuos and Nuor. And Elsa _wanted_ to share those worries with Anna, if only to hear her sister's optimism.

Gazing into Anna's trusting eyes, though, the words lodged in Elsa's throat. Because Pabbie had predicted more than _'sisters sundered'_ and _'a bridge untethered'; _the auroras had shown him another spirit _'once more gone too deep'_, and Elsa did not want to think about the ways she could or could not control that. But before she laid it all on her sister, she could give Anna one more day of peace. One more night untouched by terrors and other dangers big sisters could not fight off. Elsa could control that much.

She gave Anna's hand a second squeeze. "I'll tell you tomorrow. I promise."

Anna did not look convinced. "You know dodging the question now makes me feel the opposite of better, right?"

"I know. It makes me feel better, though."

"Whoa there. Are you using _selfishness_ to _guilt trip_ me?"

"I'm _suggesting_," Elsa shifted Anna's hand so she could pick up the document underneath, "that you should let me help you because I find it more therapeutic than reading _Aren Tales_ for the fourth time."

"Paperwork," Anna deadpanned, "is therapeutic."

"It has straightforward answers."

"It has lots of _words_. Do you think I could pass a decree for all reports to be written in point form? No more than half a page?"

"You could try. Revolutionary thinking is the mark of a great leader. This is another marriage proposal, by the way."

"How did you read that so—never mind. Who wants to marry you this time?"

"It's not for my hand." Elsa's eyes widened. "It's for Sven's… hoof?"

"_What?_" Anna shot out of her chair and clambered halfway across the desk to read over Elsa's shoulder. "_… extend a humble invitation to Snoob's annual Christmas festi—_oh my God. Elsa, you stinker!"

"You've done it to me enough times," Elsa said innocently.

"Not enough, clearly." Anna plucked the missive from Elsa's hand. "Also, I feel like I've called you a stinker enough times this week to make up for thirteen years. Now you have to do it, too. So I don't feel unreasonably mean."

"You want me to call you a stinker so you can feel better?"

"No. Yes. Maybe? But come up with your own name!"

Elsa scrunched up her face in thought. "You… ignoramus?"

"_Wow,_ sis."

"That sounds meaner than I thought. I'm sorry."

"Are you sorry, though? Are you really?"

There was a sudden ripple in Elsa's subconscious; a rush of belonging. Eyes lightening, she turned toward the window just as it blew open with a twittering gust.

"Gale, hey!" Anna laughed as the wind spirit deposited Bruni on her head. "And Bruni! Did you guys come down with Honeymaren and Ryder? Aww, I missed you, too!"

"Careful with the books and papers, you two," Elsa reminded, smiling.

"Oh, it's fine. Don't mind the party pooper."

Amused, Elsa crossed her arms. "I'm sorry—I'm forbidden from tidying, but Bruni and Gale have your blessing to make a mess?"

"Duh! Keep up, sis." Bruni leaped into Anna's cupped hands. She brought him up to face level and nodded attentively. "Uh huh. What's that? Ryder's trying to grow a beard? No way!" Anna turned to Elsa, grinning. "You should go meet up with them—no buts. I'm about to find Oskar for a riding lesson, anyway; I left him hanging yesterday, and he's the type to hold killer grudges. See you at dinner?"

Elsa opened her mouth to protest, but Gale lifted Bruni and set him on her shoulder, both spirits eager. Elsa smiled ruefully. "All right. But let me leave you with something." She raised her hand.

Anna instantly covered the back of her dress. "No ice cubes!" When Elsa burst into laughter, she huffed, "What? Your fault for setting a precedent."

"Fair. I guess that means you don't want this back?"

A snowflake-patterned bracelet reformed on Anna's wrist, twinkling in the sunlight.

"Oh…" Anna breathed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Elsa hoped she would never sense the bracelet breaking ever again.

Anna ran her fingers over the delicate ice, eyes bright. "I'll be more careful with this one."

"Be more careful with yourself, please. You're not so easily replaced."

"Okay, when are you going to get over the running into fire thing?"

"Maybe when you stop being my little sister."

"Don't forget you still owe me a snowman!" Anna called after her.

And Elsa knew she shouldn't. They weren't children anymore; they had responsibilities and reputations to uphold, and a world of unknowns to face. Yet the thought of it only gave her all the more reason.

Ducking into the corridor, Elsa flashed a smile to Gale and Bruni. _Watch this,_ she mouthed. Then she snapped her fingers.

"Ah! Cold cold cold! Elsa! Oh, that's right; you'd _better_ run!"

Time was moving fast; but with her sister's laughter ringing in the air, Elsa remembered to count her blessings.

OoOoO

It took so much of Oskar's focus to stay in the saddle, it wasn't until they left behind the village proper that he took notice. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" Anna pinched the back of her tunic and flapped the fabric as if to usher in a breeze.

"_That,_" Oskar retorted. "Someone put a spider down your shirt or something?"

"Ice cubes," she grumbled.

"… A spider dropped ice cubes down the back of your shirt?"

"Ew, no." Anna shuddered and ducked as Sven carried her under a low-hanging branch. "Just my stinker of a sister. I guess I _did_ kind of remind her about it… but still. I was working! I had to change out of my dress, and then I thought I'd just get straight into riding gear to meet you, and then I got caught up thinking about which pony you should take—and next thing I know, I've forgotten all about going back to finish my paperwork and we're out here in the woods. And my back _still_ feels cold. I know she couldn't have planned this far ahead, but I swear it feels like Elsa dropped those ice cubes just to get me to take a break. What do you think, Sven?"

She leaned forward and put her face close to the reindeer's. _"I think she's a big dork and deserves payback."_

"Oh good; it's not just me."

"Kristoff definitely does the voice better." The branch looked high enough to miss him, but Oskar ducked anyway. Clumsily shifting his centre of gravity meant he couldn't help bracing his legs against his pony's girth, which his steed interpreted as a cue to swerve off the path. "No, not that way! There's a tree right there—can't you see the tree?"

"Miska! Come here, girl." Anna whistled. Oskar's pony immediately changed tack and trotted over to push her muzzle into Anna's outstretched hand. Tickling Miska under the chin, Anna flashed Oskar a grin. "No hard feelings. Miska is Kjekk's little sister, so I've been there all her life. We're best friends, aren't we, girl? Oh yes, we are!"

Oskar held the reins up to her; sitting astride Sven, Anna positively towered over him. "Then why don't _you_ take her and let _me_ ride Sven? Like you promised I could_._"

"You can play with Sven when we reach Oaken's. But we're trying to teach you how to ride, and Sven's way too smart; he knows exactly what to do without commands. See?" Anna held both her arms aloft. Sven ambled on, unfazed.

"Show off," Oskar grumbled, nudging his pony to keep up. Compared to the horses he had seen Anna take out, Miska was pretty mellow. More importantly, she was small enough that he could sit comfortably and feel like he was vaguely in control. Most of the time. "And who's Oaken? If I get attacked with another broom, Anna, I swear…"

"You won't," she assured with a laugh. "Oaken is a pacifist—at least when you're not calling him a crook. So don't try to bargain with him like Kristoff did. Oaken runs a trading post out here, and I thought it'd be a nice trip for your first proper ride. Sven hasn't been out much lately, huh, bud? Anyway, Oaken is an inventor and always has some kooky stuff on sale. I thought you'd like to look around and maybe get something to spice up your room. That ought to make Emil jealous, hm?"

_Home._ Oskar's room back in the Southern Isles had been utilitarian, despite the souvenirs Sofia insisted on buying for him each time they went on a trip with Prince Gregory. She got mad if he reminded her that someone like him had no place for gifts, let alone decorations, so Oskar had learned to keep his mouth shut and to placate her by displaying the bare minimum of trinkets on his windowsill. He wondered if they were still there, or if Caleb's men had torn the estate apart after their escape. He wondered if he would ever see the Isles again. And how he had ended up in this tiny, faraway kingdom with its reindeers and magic, and a queen who never seemed to stop thinking of others.

"This doesn't look like a quick trip. Don't you have a heap of work to do?"

"Oh, it's fine. Elsa helped me with the urgent stuff. I was dying for fresh air, and of course I have to make up for ditching you yesterday. Sorry about that."

Anna usually appeared _everywhere_ at all times of day, so the castle had fallen unnaturally silent without her running around. Oskar had thought Anna had fallen sick, but the lightened atmosphere among the staff made him rethink. The past few days, the castle had languished under an atmosphere akin to mourning; especially around mealtimes, where, by some strange coincidence, their schedules always seemed to result in the queen and princess dining separately.

Yesterday, though, neither of them had made an appearance all day. And there had been a distinct buzz of activity in the air; of ministers disagreeing and compromising over matters that might usually have required the queen's mediation. Even Olaf had run back and forth with errands. The kingdom had not crumbled in the absence of its leadership—far from it. If anything, the people of Arendelle had seemed determined to give their queen and princess a single, peaceful day. Oskar had never seen anything like it.

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Mattias took me out and gave me some riding tips. He also gave me a knife."

Anna jerked around so quickly she nearly tumbled off Sven's back. "He gave you a _what_? Why?"

Oskar smugly patted the scabbard strapped on the back of his belt, concealed beneath his jacket. "He said it's not safe to go riding without a knife. And don't you say I'm too young to use one."

"You _are_ too young."

She had no idea. "Not where I'm from," Oskar said simply.

Anna covered her face with a groan. "_Fine_, keep your knife. For now. I'm having a talk to Mattias later. You're slouching again."

Huffing, Oskar straightened in the saddle. Learning to ride was as tedious as his first archery lesson. There were so many things to remember—shoulders back, soft arms, heels down. In archery, though, his poor form wouldn't prompt his missed target to buck and throw him off. Though that had only happened once so far, the embarrassment stung more than his bruised backside.

"Much better," Anna approved from his left. She and Sven had slowed to match Miska's pace. With her hair drawn up in a single ponytail, and her simple tunic tucked into dark riding pants, Anna was the antithesis of Oskar's mental image of royalty. She looked too free, too happy.

"Good for you," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"It's about time you and your sister stopped pretending to be mad at each other. That was stupid."

"Stupid?" Anna sputtered, and Oskar could just see Sofia sighing and shaking her head, on the verge of giving him another lesson. _You're doing the hammer talk again,_ she'd say when he was too blunt. Her exasperated rebukes used to be his motivation for communicating with others at all. But he could no longer blunder through conversations just to get a rise out of her.

"Not _you_. Stupid to _watch_." Didn't sound any better. "I, uh, meant it was du… silly the way you two tiptoed around each other. People normally look… you know—righteous after a fight. Stubborn. But you and your sister looked like you were having a contest of misery or something. I know you said you rarely fight, but it was like you forgot how to _talk_ to each other. When it looked like that was all you wanted to do."

Anna stared.

Oskar cursed himself for speaking at all. "Whatever. Forget I said anything. It's not my business, anyway."

"Of course it is," Anna dismissed. "You totally helped. You're helping now."

"I did? I am?"

"You helped me see that it's normal for sisters to have fights and to need space now and then. I know, I know; it should be obvious, right?" Anna swept her fringe from her eyes. "But Elsa and I… we're not your typical siblings, you know? Aside from the magic, I mean—that's kind of the reason we were separated so long, actually. Most of our lives, things have either been _really_ good or _really_ bad. And everyone in the castle knows that, so Kai and the others are… gentle… with us? They couldn't give me any advice when I went to them. So it was nice when you did."

"You ask your household staff for advice when you fight with your sister?"

"Sure! They know us best. Who else would I ask?"

Oskar caught himself just in time. He'd seen the portraits of the previous king and queen; it hadn't taken a lot of guesswork. "I wasn't giving you _advice_," he grumbled. "Just making observations, that's all."

"Well, your observations were helpful," Anna said with a playful grin. "Have I ever told you I like the way you never mince your words? You're so honest, Oskar."

That sent a jolt of uneasiness down his spine, like an avalanche cutting off the flow of his good conscience. But it wasn't a sly comment meant to test him. One look at her sincere smile said it all; she didn't know, couldn't possibly suspect. Of course she didn't. Unlike him, Anna had been honest from the start, from _I won't let you sink_ to _I don't think I'll ever regret saving you_. If she had made those promises with less conviction, Oskar wouldn't have been thrown so off guard. It was easier to trust the honeyed words of a patently bad liar than it was to believe there actually existed a queen who would leap into freezing waters herself, risk her kingdom's neutrality, and bare her heart to another nation's refugees within minutes of learning they had lied to her.

Yet there she was, reminding him in a singsong voice that he was slouching again.

This time, Oskar's shoulders felt too heavy for him to straighten. "Anna?"

"Mm?" She picked a flower off a branch and held it out for Sven to sniff. When Oskar said nothing, she looked quizzically over her shoulder. "Oskar? You okay?"

He should be. He'd started off following all the rules, after all, and though Ragna and Emil hadn't stopped doubting his decision, Oskar didn't think it was the wrong one. He'd made the right choice—the only choice—that day. Keeping it up was as easy as doing nothing.

So why did it feel like it was getting harder?

Oskar's hands clenched around Miska's reins.

Then Anna peered past him. "Is that Mattias?"

Ignoring his cowardly relief, Oskar twisted around. Sure enough, the general was galloping up the path towards them on a horse so large and mighty that its shadow completely engulfed Oskar and Miska when he pulled up beside them.

"Your Majesty," Mattias said breathlessly, but Anna was louder.

"Mattias! You gave Oskar a _knife?"_

Mattias blinked at the finger she had jabbed at him. "Yes? Should I, err, not have done that? I thought it would be essential equipment when handling livestock. If he falls off and gets dragged along, he can use the knife to cut himself free."

Anna held out a hand. "He's twelve. I'm twenty-one. I want a knife, too."

"_That's_ what you're upset about?" Oskar asked.

"What? It's only fair!"

"I'd be more than happy to let you have your pick of the armoury when we get back, ma'am." Mattias's expression became serious. "But for now, I came to give you a message. I thought you would want to know sooner rather than later."

A visible flash of fear overtook Anna's puzzlement. "Is Kristoff back? Did something happen to him?"

"Kristoff? No, no, we haven't heard from Weselton," Mattias said hastily. He placed a folded note in Anna's still outstretched hand. "You can read it yourself, ma'am."

Absently wrapping and unwrapping the reins around his hand, Oskar watched as Anna opened the note. Whatever it said, it likely marked the end of their little excursion. She was the Queen of Arendelle, and he was—

Then Anna glanced up from the note, biting her lip. And the moment their eyes met, Oskar knew.

It shouldn't surprise him. He'd prepared for this. He'd held Sofia's hand until the light left her eyes. Yet it felt like a boulder on his chest. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Anna pressed her lips together. Dismounting, she closed the distance between them and held the note out to him.

"Your Majesty… Anna." Mattias sounded surprised. "That's classified intel."

"It's okay." Anna's voice was soft. "It's his country."

Oskar had no conscious memory of taking the note and reading it. The words blurred together without meaning. _Reports a week ago… storm… fallen siege… rebellion defeated…_

No mention of survivors. He didn't need it. Because Prince Gregory had never lost a battle at sea—but _against_ the sea? Against nature itself?

"At least he didn't lose to Caleb," Oskar heard himself say. "He would have hated that."

Anna laid a hand on his knee. "He could be safe. Regrouping."

"I'm fine."

"It'll be okay, Oskar."

"I said, I'm _fine._" He leaned away, and Miska jittered under him.

Fixing his burning gaze on the trees to their right, Oskar didn't see Anna's reaction to his snappish tone. From the corner of his eye, though, he saw her take a loose hold of Miska's halter, as if she feared he would bolt. He would have chuckled if his chest didn't feel so tight. There was nothing to worry about—it wasn't like he had anywhere to go.

"We should get back and call a council meeting to discuss the new situation," Mattias told Anna. "Where are the others?"

"What others?"

"I saw more than two sets of recent tracks on the way up. You didn't take a guard detail with you?"

"About that… I thought you chased us down to tell me off for giving Linus and Peder an early lunch."

"And that would have been perfectly justified. Anna, we've talked about this. You can't keep giving your guards the slip—especially at a time like this."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just wanted to leave everything behind for a bit. It's only a quick trip to Oaken's, and look! There's no one around."

"Forgive me; is the thought of my queen wandering the _deserted _wilderness meant to make me feel better? Because it's having the opposite effect."

A glint of light in the trees caught Oskar's eye, disappearing so quickly it would have gone unnoticed if he wasn't already staring in that direction. Squinting, he caught the silhouette of a figure moving through the undergrowth. "There," he said tonelessly, flicking his head. "Not deserted. You can stop arguing now."

"Really? Where?"

But by the time he pointed, the only movement came from gently swaying leaves.

"Where?" Anna asked again. "Are we looking for a bird? Oh boy, it better not be a wolf."

Oskar frowned. Storms and sieges faded from mind as something else crept up on him: an instinct he'd learned to trust since he could walk, telling him it wasn't a bird or a wolf. That it might not have been the reflection of sunlight on a waxy leaf that had drawn his attention in the first place.

"Anna," he began, turning to her just as there was a soft _swish_ in the air. It was a sound distantly familiar, but which Oskar couldn't quite place.

Not until he heard the wet _thwack_ that followed—_that_ sound, he recognised immediately.

"_Archers!"_

But Mattias was already falling.

* * *

A/N: Does it help my case at all to mention that I originally didn't plan for this chapter to end _there_? It was literally a byproduct of Kristoff stealing the spotlight for too many words. I have no other defence.

Thank you for reading and hope you're all doing well!


	13. Terrified or Tense

**The Next Unknown**

_13 – Terrified or Tense_

OoOoO

Oskar shouted something, but all Anna heard was the terrible scream. She whipped around in time to see Sven darting aside as Mattias's horse crashed to the ground, legs kicking wildly. Time seemed to freeze as Anna stared, unable to make sense of the bizarre sight. Had Mattias tried to dismount and overbalanced both himself and his horse? Why wasn't he getting up?

"Anna!" Oskar grabbed her as she started forward. His fingers dug into her shoulder, and she was about to tell him he was hurting her when he shouted, "You have to go!"

"But Mattias—"

The horse had stopped thrashing. Now it only… lay there, chest fluttering feebly. Then Anna noticed the feathered shaft protruding from the side of its neck. The black fur around it glistened, and it wasn't until the first drop of red dripped onto the dirt that Anna processed what Oskar had shouted moments earlier.

_Archers._

"You have to go," Oskar urged again. There was something different about the look in his eyes as he surveyed the surrounding trees, alert. Unerringly collected. "Anna, snap out of it! We're under attack!"

This couldn't really be happening, could it? Assassins? After her?

_The next right thing_.

"Go," Anna breathed. "We'll be right behind you."

"What? Oh no, don't you _dare_—"

She slapped Miska hard on the rump. The frightened pony lurched forward, carrying off Oskar's yells of protest.

Anna turned and ran. A nearby tree exploded in splinters. Choking down a cry, she kept her head down and sprinted. _Don't trip, Anna. Don't you dare trip._

She dove behind the fallen horse. The bolt had missed Mattias, but that didn't mean anything when he was lying motionless on his side.

"No, no, no. Mattias? Can you hear me?" Anna's hands fluttered helplessly over his chest. Then she saw it rise and fall, and let out a cry of relief.

He must have simply hit his head on the way down—not that anything about this crazy situation was _simple. _But Anna would take a concussion or broken bones, as long as it meant Mattias could still wake up and tell her off for not taking guards. She'd stand there and apologise a thousand times.

Mattias's horse had fallen deathly still. Anna peered around it and saw Sven skittering near a copse. She opened her mouth to call out to him. Then she saw him freeze, his wide eyes fixed on something outside her line of sight.

She heard the click of a crossbow engaging, and left her heart behind as she leaped to her feet. "No!"

Her eyes fell on a man so massive she nearly mistook him for a bear.

"Don't," Anna added breathlessly.

The attacker arched a bushy eyebrow. It was all she could make out of his face; his shaven head almost perfectly blotted out the fiery sun, throwing shadows across his features like a summit shrouded in clouds. The crossbow was almost half Anna's height, yet it looked like a mere toy nestled in his spade-like hands. "Touching concern for a moose," he said roughly.

"Reindeer_._"

Coarse laughter. "This is too easy. Here I thought leaving your general alive would give you incentive to cooperate; but look at you now, already begging for an animal's life. If I'd known stupidity was all it took to become Queen of Arendelle, I would have come in a dress." The crossbow swivelled between Sven and Mattias. "I'm feeling benevolent today. Choose one."

"No! Please." Anna stepped around the horse with one hand outstretched, her steps painstakingly light. "I'll come with you—I'll do whatever you want. Don't hurt them." When the man rolled his eyes, she added helplessly, "Why are you doing this?"

"Here's what you don't understand, Your Majesty. You're asking me for a favour I don't feel like granting. So the question that matters is: why not?"

Anna's mind raced. Stopped. "B-Because you'll lose."

"Tell me, what exactly do _I_ stand to lose here?"

'_You should take your safety more seriously,' _Oskar had told her before. '_You're the queen.'_

She was, wasn't she? Which meant her most powerful weapon was not the one that allowed her to slay her enemies.

_The next right thing._

Anna drew out the dagger she had slipped from Mattias's belt and pressed its tip to her chest. "If you wanted me dead, you would have taken that first shot at me. Right?"

The man narrowed his hooded eyes. "You're threatening to slit your throat over an old soldier and a moose," he clarified flatly.

"Maybe. Is it working?"

His dark gaze bore into her. She held it, along with her breath.

_Thwack._

Anna stumbled back as a bolt slammed into the ground, inches from her feet. She gripped the knife's hilt so tightly she could already feel bruises forming. But she bit down the whimper and kept her chin defiantly raised. Knife steady.

The man lowered the crossbow and spat to the side.

"Sven. Take Mattias and go." Anna's voice was so soft she barely heard it over the clamour of her heartbeat.

Sven let out an unhappy whine. Anna saw his lowered antlers, glanced back at the man with his crossbow and sword at his waist, and discreetly shook her head_._ It got her a reluctant snuff, but Sven complied and trotted towards Mattias.

Anna didn't dare take her eyes off the enemy. Her kidnapper.

It didn't deter _him_ from making sudden moves, though. "Wait." He strode towards Sven, who froze with Mattias draped across his back.

Sven snorted in displeasure. But he stood still as the man drew a note from his burgundy coat, which he tucked into Mattias's trouser pocket.

Once Sven was out of sight, the man stormed back to Anna. It took only five strides for him to reach her.

She didn't know what to do with the knife anymore, so she looked up at him. "What was written on the—"

The crossbow stock slammed into her head.

OoOoO

"Stop! Where are you going? Arendelle is the other way!"

It was no use; the wind snatched away his commands. Miska galloped faster and wilder than any ship Oskar had sailed on.

A low branch nearly took off his head. "Calm—down—you—dumb—horse!" Oskar's teeth chattered with Miska's frenzied buckling. The reins had shot from his surprised grip when Anna had startled Miska, so all he could do was cling to the pony's neck and hold on for dear life.

This was all Anna's fault. Trust her to save his life by pushing him towards certain death.

"I said—" Oskar swiped for the reins. "—_stop!"_

He pulled backwards with all his might. And remembered too late that he had done the same thing last week. Oskar had a flash of lying flat on his back while Anna's disembodied voice sheepishly said, '_Oops. Did I forget to tell you that could happen?'_

Miska reared. Oskar tumbled off with a yell—but fire flared in his left shoulder and jerked him upright before he could hit the ground. Leather cut into his forearm like a rusted knife; the reins had him snared. And Miska showed no signs of stopping.

Cursing his stupidity, Oskar's hand scrabbled across his back for the knife Mattias had given him. But he'd strapped on the scabbard with the hilt facing the other direction—he couldn't extend his arm far enough to free the blade from the scabbard.

It was ridiculous. He'd visualised his death every day of his life, and it never contained glory but it always involved fire and blood. A good end. Not one delivered by a frenzied hoof in the face, or a tree rushing towards him. Never had he ever pictured himself dying for nothing. For no one.

For the first time since arriving in Arendelle, Oskar was afraid.

Prince Gregory's stern face loomed in his mind. '_Plenty of time to rehearse your excuses in the afterlife.'_

Then there was the phantom weight of Sofia's arm slung over his shoulders, tugging his earlobe in that infuriating habit of hers. '_You know he only _sounds _like a hard ass. He's doing it to make you strong.'_

_For you,_ Oskar thought. _Everything was for you._ And he had already failed that. He'd watched her eyes close for the last time and known there was no way to bring her back. It hadn't stopped him from trying; from stubbornly clutching her stiff hand in the icy fjord. Until another young woman had taught him how to let go.

'_We'll do it together,'_ she'd told him in the water.

Liar_._

Gritting his teeth, Oskar strained—and the knife came free.

He slashed upwards, cutting off the reins and hitting the ground in a plume of dust. Sky and earth blurred together as he rolled with his arms around his head. Dirt in his mouth, rocks and roots digging into his ribcage. Then, at last, all was still.

Oskar flopped onto his back and lay spreadeagled, chest heaving, eyes shut. Waiting for Prince Gregory to tell him to get up for one more drill. For Sofia to drag him to his feet, laughing.

For Anna to catch up.

A warm snuff of breath on his brow. Oskar cracked open an eye to see Miska standing over him, pawing the ground in a decidedly guilty manner. "Unbelievable," he muttered, dropping his head back down. "I don't care anymore. Just go. You're free."

He was free, too, wasn't he? He didn't have to return to Arendelle; he'd already left behind the one person who would have looked for him. Had looked out for him.

Miska nudged his shoulder.

Oskar turned his head away from her baleful eyes. His gaze landed on the knife lying beside him. '_No more stupid heroics,'_ Sofia had told him. Made him promise.

"She's going to get herself killed, Sof. Like you did."

An arm around his shoulders. A tug on his earlobe. _I suppose you can perform heroics without being a hero. It's what you do best._

Of course it was. He'd been raised for it. Ever since Prince Gregory had taken him aside and said, '_This family is unfit to protect anyone. But you are different.'_

Oskar let out a long breath. Then he picked up the knife.

'_You are a shadow.'_

OoOoO

The cut was so deep it took several seconds for the first drop of blood to well up. Then it started gushing. Bruni's skin glowed violet in alarm. Gale zipped back from gallivanting over the fjord to circle anxiously above the stall.

"I'm okay," Elsa said hastily, setting down the carving knife. Seeing Honeymaren serving a customer, she tapped Ryder on the shoulder. He was counting money and dividing them into denominations, as she had taught him. "Ryder, would you happen to have—"

Ryder took one look at her, and coins rolled across the mat they shared. "Almighty Ahtohallan! What did you _do_?"

"It's fine, it doesn't hurt—"

"You can't feel _anything_? Oh no, why did I get you into this? Maren!"

"No, no, it's okay. Really, it's just a scratch." Elsa tried to grab him before he lunged for his sister. Too slow.

"I'm so sorry, please keep browsing while I speak with my brother…" Honeymaren flashed the customer a winning smile, which vanished as soon as she turned around. "_Ryder_, can't you behave yourself for one… oh, spirits above. What happened, Elsa?"

All she could offer was an abashed smile. "My hand slipped while carving."

"Anna's going to kill us," moaned Ryder.

"She's going to kill _you_." Honeymaren pulled a handkerchief from her sash and pressed it gently but firmly to Elsa's wound. "Sorry if this hurts."

"It's okay. Thank you. And please don't blame Ryder; it's my fault for being distracted."

"He's the lazy one who roped you into helping him. He had two weeks to finish these carving commissions, and what did he spend all that time doing instead? 'Catching' stars."

"Hey, I figured it out in the end! All I needed was a bucket of water. And I'll have you know I didn't ask Elsa to help me because I'm lazy—it's because _she's_ amazing. Look at this!" Ryder picked up Elsa's block of wood, whittled down to the rough shape of a wolf. "Do you see the detail in the fur? She can do this _without_ magic. Can you believe it?"

"Of course I can, moron. This is Elsa we're talking about. What I can't believe is that you thought it would be a good idea to put a knife in her hand."

"What's wrong with that? She's a capable adult."

They both looked at Elsa. She blinked back.

Ryder grimaced. "Okay, you're right. I should have known better. How bad is it? Do we need Bruni to cauterise the wound?"

At the sound of his name, Bruni scampered down from Elsa's shoulder to her wrist, his large eyes fixed on Honeymaren's bandaging.

"He's joking, Bruni," Elsa said quickly.

"Am not!"

"Ryder, make yourself useful and serve the customer." Honeymaren glowered until he reluctantly shambled off. "He wasn't always so squeamish, believe it or not. It started when I fell out of a tree when we were kids. He thought I was going to die. Cried for _days_."

Elsa smiled. "I think you and Ryder care more for each other than you'll both admit."

"Trust me, we really don't."

"She's only proving my point, isn't she?" Elsa asked Bruni, then winced when Honeymaren applied pressure on her hand.

"Hold it tight until the bleeding stops, you insufferable optimist."

"That would be Anna."

"Good point. She's infecting you. Oh, hold on." Honeymaren rose to serve a new customer.

There was a pattern. Customers eventually noticed Elsa sitting by the stall, and would hastily dip their heads in greeting. Elsa would smile back and wonder if she should have donned something less conspicuous. She couldn't afford to get lost in thought, either, because she'd once accidentally caught a passerby's eye, and the woman had hurriedly changed directions to approach the stall and purchase a comb.

Arendelle was her home, but Elsa started to wonder if the people had forgotten that.

She peeled back the makeshift bandage to check on the wound: still bleeding. "Anna is going to overreact when she finds out about this." Seeing Bruni blanch, she chuckled and tickled his chin. "You're overreacting, too. This won't kill me."

Bruni did not look convinced.

Elsa wondered how laughably fragile humans must appear to nature. Humans were selfish, after all. They loved discriminately, destined to raise the lives of an arbitrary few above millions of others. It was such a simple thing to cast aside the faceless and nameless; after all, inhabiting the same world did not mean they were obliged to share the orbits of each other's. Wasn't that what Elsa had done that night, when she'd heard the screams of drowning people? '_Save them,'_ she had unthinkingly demanded of the Nokk.

Yet the more bodies that had surfaced on the dock—the longer her little sister remained in the waves, out of her reach, her protection—hadn't Elsa's world so readily, unapologetically, narrowed down to '_Save her'_?

Humans made mistakes. But Elsa was different. When she bled, nature flinched. When she chose poorly, the balance trembled.

When the Nokk vanished, she wondered how much of it was her fault.

Sudden yelps of surprise snapped Elsa out of her reverie. At first, she could only blink dazedly at the blood-splotched handkerchief around her hand, unable to recall what she was supposed to be doing. Then she heard the crash.

Ryder was sprawled on top of the wares he had been selling, several pots shattered beneath him. An Arendellian woman stood over him, tall and grey-haired, her face twisted in disgust and fury. She held a leather sheath in one hand. Elsa recognised it; weeks ago, she'd watched a Northuldran elder stitch it together with tender skill before sliding it over the knife, a perfect fit, and adding it to the trade wagon.

'_Good knife,'_ he'd boasted, clapping Ryder on the back. '_Make sure you get good mine-ay for it, eh? Enough coins to melt into a necklace for Livli's birthday.'_

The hunting knife was now gripped in the woman's other hand.

There was another blade pointed at her.

Honeymaren held both her spear and voice steady, but her tone was colder than any steel. "Get away from my brother. _Now._"

"What's going on?" Elsa asked in bewilderment. She moved to Ryder's side. "Are you okay?"

He looked shaken, but nodded back. "Y-Yeah. Just tripped. Well, not 'just'—I didn't do it on my own. She suddenly went for one of the knives and—"

"They're here!" the Arendellian woman hissed back. Tendrils of hair had escaped from her bun, framing her face like vines. If not for the stout maid restraining her from behind, Elsa did not doubt that the woman would have set upon Ryder with the mercy of a ravenous animal. "Wild ones in the capital!"

"My lady, please calm down!" The maid's flustered gaze landed on Elsa. "Qu—Princess Elsa! Please understand; she's only confused. I promise she means no harm."

"Oh really? You think she's just enjoying her reflection in the steel?" Honeymaren sniped back.

The square's merry chatter had ceased. No one appeared to have moved, yet there was now a wide berth around the stall. Parents ushered children behind them. Even the gulls on the surrounding rooftops had fallen silent, perched like pale sentinels.

Elsa opened her mouth to say something—anything. Yet all that came to mind was her father's voice from a long time ago: '_It was a gift of peace… but something went wrong. I wasn't at all prepared for what the day would bring.'_

A stocky man hobbled forward. He had a familiar face; they all had familiar faces, but Elsa couldn't put names to all of them. Anna would have been able to.

Reaching the stall, the man raised a placating hand to the woman with the knife, then turned to Honeymaren. He was shorter than her, but his shoulders were wide and his weathered face was set in a grim scowl. "And you?" he grunted. "Do _you_ mean any harm?"

Honeymaren flicked her wrist and the spear flipped upright, pointed at the sky. "Looks to me like the harm has already been done."

"It's not personal. Freya's been that way for years. Decades."

_Freya._ The name resonated. Elsa couldn't ease the sense that she was missing something.

The man looked to Elsa with a minute bow of his head. "I hope you'll understand, ma'am. Seeing the outsiders; it's… triggering for Freya. They took her husband."

Ryder stopped dusting off his hands. There was an incredulous expression on his face as he rose to his feet. "_We_ took her husband? _You_ killed—spirits, I don't even know. Do you know how many of our people grew up without—"

"Look out!" Honeymaren leaped in front of her brother as the disoriented woman wrenched free of her maid. Spear pointed, determination in her eyes—

The knife flew out of the woman's hand. Everyone heard the deceivingly delicate _tink_ as it struck the flagpole. Everyone saw the metal shatter on impact, watched the ornate handle fall harmlessly to the ground.

Everyone understood that it meant _ice._

They all looked back at Elsa. The blatant horror on their faces terrified her (_conceal, don't feel, don't let it show_)—until she realised they weren't gawking at her; they were staring at the hand she had thrown out. At the blood dripping from her palm and down her wrist.

"Look at this… look at this." The woman pointed a bony finger at Elsa—the ice hadn't harmed her, thank goodness. "I told the king this would happen. My Hakon predicted it. Magic? Peace? We gave them a gift, and they've sent us back a _witch_."

She shouldn't have flinched. If she hadn't, Bruni and Gale wouldn't have known that a single word could hurt her more than a knife. The air wouldn't be humming with humidity, and fear wouldn't be flashing across the Arendellians' faces. And Elsa wouldn't be so afraid.

Nature did not interfere with mortal affairs, but the spirits inarguably had wills and whims of their own. And there was no questioning whose side they would take.

_Please… don't make me choose._

"Elsa!"

Suddenly, the crowd scattered as Sven burst into the square like a crazed bull. Mattias slouched in the saddle, dangerously pale. He nearly fell off as Sven skidded to a halt in front of Elsa.

"Anna," he wheezed.

All Elsa heard was: _You won't make it in time._

OoOoO

The sky was red. Or was that the ground? Were her eyes even open? It was impossible to tell. She couldn't move. Didn't want to move. It was fine; Kai would wake her up if she slept in. Everything was fine.

Why didn't she feel fine?

Anna winced as she opened her eyes. Too bright. There was something warm and sticky on her face. She lifted a hand to wipe it away. Couldn't.

"Gotta be kidding me. You're awake already? Stop moving before I drop you." Whose voice was that? Couldn't be Kristoff. Mattias?

Anna suddenly got the niggling feeling that she was forgetting something. Something about Mattias. What was it? Of course, thinking would be easier if the world would just stop bouncing. She felt like vomiting, but when her lips parted, all that came out was a crumpled moan.

"Quit whining. I didn't hit you that hard, did I? Bloody hell, you'd better not die on me before we get back. You hear me?"

Barely; the roar of blood in her ears was louder. Her head felt too heavy, and the rest of her body too light. It was hard to breathe with her ribcage pressed against an unforgivingly hard shoulder. It never felt this uncomfortable when Kristoff slung her over his back.

_Kristoff, _Anna thought. She clung to the sound of his name, wielded it like a torch against the darkness creeping back into her vision.

"Where are you… taking me?"

"Weselton."

A rush of panic cleared Anna's head. "_Weselton? _The Duke sent you?"

"Hmm."

She'd sent Kristoff and Hakon straight into a trap. Her fault. She should've known. Maybe this wouldn't be happening if she had listened more—listened to Hakon's advice, to Mattias's insistence on fortifying her guard, to Elsa's reminders to be careful and to stop running into fire.

This time, though, the fire had found her. Burned her.

'_Hans said you were naïve.'_

But she wasn't blind.

"Not from Weselton," Anna mumbled into the stranger's back. "Wrong crossbow."

"Shit, I did hit too hard. You're not making any sense."

Crimson spots danced across her vision until Anna blinked and realised it was blood congealed to her eyelashes. Her blood? Thank goodness Kristoff and Elsa couldn't see her in this state.

What if she never saw them again?

"Weselton developed faster-loading models. You're not using one. And the Duke wouldn't cross Elsa; even if he did, he wouldn't just send one man. He's a chicken. With the face of a peacock."

"You're delirious."

"And you're lying."

The man's snort jostled her. "What difference does it make? She'll come for you no matter where you end up."

'_Whoever comes, whatever reason they have, wherever I run… I'll never be able to stay away from Arendelle. Because if trouble can't find me, it will go looking for _you_, Anna.'_

It was a sloppy kick, but it still rewarded her with a grunt of pain. Then the man dropped her, and vertigo overtook satisfaction.

Anna's head exploded as she crashed onto her side. She couldn't even nurse it because her arms were tied behind her back. The ropes cut into her wrists, but the burn was offset by a calming coolness.

The bracelet. It would break if she smashed it hard enough against the ground. Then Elsa would come for her.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

Anna coughed up the dust she had inhaled. "You leave… my sister… alone."

From her perspective, her kidnapper was a storm that filled the sky and dwarfed the trees. Anna braced herself.

But he ignored her and instead glared into the distance. "Where's that dumb horse? Swear I left it around here."

Anna wanted to laugh. Her big bad kidnapper was lost, which meant they were still on the outskirts of Arendelle. Easy. She was fast on her feet. Sven might already have alerted the guards. She wasn't a hapless princess in a fairytale; she was a queen capable of saving herself. All she had to do was scrape together the strength to stand up.

Except she didn't even register that her eyes had closed of their own accord, until she heard the man growl, "What the hell is this?"

Anna struggled to focus on the wavering outline of the man crouched a short distance away, studying one end of a rope tied around a tree. The tether had been severed cleanly.

Seeming to come to a realisation, he bit out a curse, reaching for his sword—

A shadow plummeted from the sky and sank a knife into his back.

For a gravity-defying instant, Oskar was sure he had mistimed. Then he nearly lost grip of the knife as the blade pierced flesh and deflected off bone. He knew immediately that it was not deep enough. Bad angle. Out of practice.

Too late—no time to stop. He hit the ground rolling, skidding, stumbling. He stopped just short of tripping over Anna.

She stared up at him with bewilderment on her blood-streaked face. Damn it, she was hurt. "Oskar? What are you—"

He cut her restraints and dragged her to her feet. "Just run, you idiot!"

It wasn't a beach in the darkness of night. He wasn't racing towards a boat, struggling to push it into the ebon sea. But Oskar had been here before—had sprinted without looking back, heart threatening to burst from his chest with the anticipation of an arrow in his back.

They were almost there when Anna tripped. No, not tripped—buckled. Oskar barely caught her in time.

"M'kay," she gasped. "Just… give me… a second…" The blood was both too dark and too bright on her deathly pale skin. It was all over if she passed out now.

Throwing an urgent look over his shoulder, Oskar ushered her behind a tree. "Anna. _Anna._ Come on. Stay awake."

"I am awake, dummy." Anna cracked open an eye; her left one, since blood flowed persistently down the right side of her face. "See?"

"Yeah, okay. Lower your voice." Oskar used his sleeve to clean up Anna's face and got a better look at her head wound. The gash opened up at her temple, disappearing into her scalp and staining her fiery hair the wrong shade of red.

"You're gonna catch a cold," Anna slurred, reaching out to tug Oskar's thin undershirt as he yanked off his tunic and pressed it to her head. "Why did you come back?"

"What does it look like? I'm saving your stupid ass."

"Hey. Language."

"Really? Right now? Here—hold it yourself." Oskar kept his eyes peeled on their surroundings as he wiped his hands on his pants. The knife Mattias had given him was already a little too heavy for his tastes, and he couldn't afford to have a sweaty grip.

He jumped when Anna's hand touched his. Her eyes were still unfocused, but traces of colour had returned to her face. Maybe she had a chance now. "All right, listen. There's a horse tied up a little farther that way, with Miska. Huge horse, can't miss it. It's his; it actually came with me when I cut it loose, would you believe? It's saddled and ready to go. Just don't fall off. Can you manage that?"

"Sure." Her voice now sounded more like the Anna he knew. "Give me the knife, Oskar. It's okay."

That was when he realised that even amidst the chaos, Anna was worried about _him_. She thought he was shell-shocked from what he had done.

He tightened his grip on the knife. "And what are you going to do with it, huh? Go up against him looking like _that_? You've never killed anyone before."

"What, and you have?"

Even Oskar knew his hesitation dragged for too long. He could tell by the way Anna stared at him, humour slowly draining into puzzlement.

"Oskar…?"

He averted his eyes. "I just… I know what I'm doing, okay?"

Anna opened her mouth—and yelped when a bolt slammed into the opposite tree, nearly clipping Oskar. They flattened themselves to the trunk as the sound of heavy footsteps drew nearer.

"So this is where you washed up," the mercenary grunted as he reloaded the crossbow. "_Oskar._"

Anna shot Oskar a startled, _how-does-he-know-your-name_ look.

Something about the man had seemed familiar. Now, it clicked. "Oh no. It's Runo_._"

"Who?"

"The ugly twin." When Anna still looked confused, Oskar impatiently added, "The chocolates, Anna. Number ten. Keep up."

"Wait, what? He's a Wes—he's your _uncle_?"

Runo called out, "I have to say; I'm surprised. I can see why Hans would drool over such a puny kingdom; they're both about as important. But you? Thought you were smarter than that. Why are you protecting this fool?"

"Why are _you_ here? Murdering one monarch wasn't enough for you?"

_Knife,_ Anna mouthed to Oskar.

_Horse,_ he shot back.

They glowered at each other.

"You say that like I should be ashamed. The codger had it coming; Rudi and I gave each other a black eye, fighting over who got to do it. I won. I always win."

"You're a horrible person," Anna said in a whisper only Oskar could hear.

"So." Runo's tone shifted into something Oskar didn't like. "Where's Sofia? Was my aim too good that night?"

Time slowed.

"What did you say?" Oskar asked numbly. "Your… aim?"

"You heard me. If I'd been there from the start, not a single one of you would have made it onto those boats."

Anna had gone pale again, this time with horror. "Oskar," she whispered.

He was already moving.

He heard the crossbow, but knew that no archer could pin him down. He was too fast. Too small. It didn't give him an advantage against Runo, though. Runo had watched him grow up, seen his training.

But it was only thanks to Runo that Oskar had nothing left to lose.

OoOoO

She almost managed to grab him in time. Despite Gerda's skilful tailoring, all of Oskar's clothes were still slightly too big for him; if he hadn't taken off his shirt to stem her bleeding, she could have caught him. He hated it when she pointed out that the baggy fit only emphasised room for him to grow.

He was only twelve years old.

"Oskar, no!" Anna tried to stand only to pitch forward onto all fours. A droplet of blood spattered onto the back of her hand. She saw way too many fingers. Standing suddenly felt harder than ice-skating.

So she crawled, dragging herself around the tree in time to see Oskar take a flying leap at Runo Westergaard. It was a picture ripped straight out of a fable and thrust into nightmarish reality. It seemed to happen in slow motion—Runo effortlessly knocking aside Oskar's knife thrust with the crossbow, his other hand already moving. Then it sped up again. There was no time for Anna to cry out a warning as Runo's sword swung towards Oskar's torso with the ferocity of a viper.

_Please,_ she implored of every force in the universe. _He's only twelve._

And gravity seemed to respond: Oskar tripped. The sword passed harmlessly over his head.

Oskar didn't stop there, though. He tumbled through Runo's wide stance and regained his balance a safe distance away, crouched low like a scorpion. The length of his knife gleamed scarlet—a bloody tear had opened up in Runo's left calf.

Anna suspected the gods had nothing to do with that.

Runo glanced down at his leg with a look of amused annoyance. "Next time I see Gregory, I'll let him know he did an outstanding job raising a flea. Oh, wait—I'm not planning a trip to the bottom of the ocean anytime soon. Shame I had nothing to do with that."

"Don't you worry," Oskar said in a chillingly quiet voice, flipping the knife into a reverse defensive grip. "I'll get to Caleb soon enough."

Tossing the crossbow aside, Runo rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. From Anna's position, she could see the first gash Oskar had left on his back. It didn't seem to hinder him in the slightest, and Anna realised despairingly that Oskar wasn't a flea at all—Runo was simply too monolithic to fall.

"Let you in on a secret, kid?" His lips split into an eerie smile. "If you want to avenge Gregory, it's Hans you should go after."

An incessant ringing screeched in Anna's ears, like a boomerang trapped within her skull. She must have heard wrong. Hans was supposed to be missing. He couldn't be on Caleb's side. Had Oskar actually told her that, though? Or had Anna convinced herself of it? The same way she'd told herself the danger couldn't be real; that the war wouldn't actually reach Arendelle. That no one would get hurt.

Oskar darted around a tree as Runo's sword hacked into the trunk. He reappeared on the other side, jumping up to pull back a branch that catapulted into Runo's face. Then he plunged in with both hands gripping the knife, eyes blazing with resolve and hatred and—

Runo's backhand sent him flying. Oskar crashed into another tree, the knife spinning out of his hand and into the bushes.

_Get up,_ Anna thought; but not to Oskar, who lay dazed. _Get _up_, Anna._

Runo approached Oskar at a leisurely pace, twirling the sword in a hypnotic motion. There was a red welt across his brow, a slight limp to his stride, and cuts all over his coat. Yet he still bore the air of a champion, certain of his glory.

"You've lost your touch. Send my regards to Gregory, mm? Tell him he chose the wrong side."

"Tell him yourself," Oskar rasped out—as Anna picked up the discarded crossbow and smashed it across Runo's wounded back.

Runo bellowed and whirled around.

Anna offered a weak smile. "That was payback."

It was in his eyes: he no longer cared about keeping her alive.

Before either of them could move, Oskar clambered onto Runo's back and leveraged his entire body to wrestle back Runo's sword arm, locking the elbow. His face was red with effort. "Don't just stand there!" he shouted at Anna. "Run!"

_Run._ It struck Anna that she might well be hearing that word for the rest of her life. How many more people would throw themselves into danger for her, all because she was the queen? Would saving herself make her a wiser leader? If she fought alongside them, would that make her a better person? A foolish queen? What was the right thing to do? _Was_ there a right thing? Who got to decide that?

Anna made her choice.

She swung the crossbow at Runo's bloodied left leg.

It sent him down on one knee, putting his face too close to hers. She saw in too much detail his unexpectedly long eyelashes; the faint freckles beneath the dirt and blood; the lumpy spot where the cartilage of his once-broken nose had healed crookedly. She saw cords of muscle popping on his neck as he strained to shake Oskar off. And she saw the exact moment he changed tactics and reached under his coat with his free hand. She saw the knife—Mattias's knife. He must have taken it from her.

She didn't see who he would have stabbed: her or Oskar. She didn't think at all—Anna mustered the last of her strength, and brought the crossbow crashing down on Runo's head.

The weapon shattered, spraying the three of them with wood and metal.

No one moved.

The perfect symmetry of Runo's shaven head mesmerised Anna. Somehow, the crossbow hadn't left a single mark. No scratch, no blood. No reaction.

"Did that knock him out?" Oskar panted.

"I-I think so? I mean, I…" She'd hit him hard enough for it. Frighteningly hard. She thought she'd felt something give way before the crossbow broke and—

Runo straightened without a word, sending a shocked Oskar crashing to the ground.

Anna stared at the blood trickling from Runo's nose, slithering over his lips and seeping into his russet beard. But Runo didn't even spare a look at her. He simply swung the sword.

A blur of white bowled him over.

Anna blinked. Then she noticed the air seemed to swirl around her and Oskar, picking up sticks and rocks that hovered protectively around them. "… Gale?"

Runo's hoarse yell tore through her relief. Anna looked up and immediately saw the reason.

He was pinned down by a giant wolf made entirely of _ice._

'_She'll come for you no matter where you end up.'_

The beast snarled down at Runo. Its crystal fangs were as long as the knife he tried to stab into its side— the blade snapped. Runo swore, scrabbling across the ground for his sword. His fingers brushed the hilt for a split second before the wolf snatched him by the leg.

Anna held her breath.

But the wolf didn't tear into Runo. It only dragged him away from Anna and Oskar, then dropped him unceremoniously in the dirt. He lay there, muttering curses as he tried to crawl towards his sword. Blood continued streaming from his nose.

The wolf padded back.

"Anna," Oskar said warily.

"It's okay; it won't hurt us."

The wolf stopped in front of her. Anna stared into its ice-blue eyes, so familiar to her that a lump rose in her throat.

The wolf bowed its head and took the final step towards her. The moment their brows touched, its crystalline body morphed into soft, snowy fur.

Anna let out an awed laugh and made a mental note to tell Elsa she was a show-off.

Then she saw that the wolf's muzzle was now smudged red. She tried to rub it off, but the sight of her blood on the wolf's beautiful fur had brought back her raging headache. She couldn't sleep yet; Runo wouldn't stay down for long. She needed to be ready.

Except Runo had fallen silent.

Anna blinked. She _had_ just blinked, right? She didn't remember laying her head down on the wolf. Now even more fur had been stained, and it was a different red to the time Olaf poured pink lemonade down his throat and ended up looking like a snow cone.

Another blink. She wasn't resting on the wolf anymore. There was something blissfully cold pressed to her skull. And someone had gathered her in their arms. Anna knew that cold, and the warmth that accompanied it. She knew the voice desperately whispering, "Please, no... _please_..."

She made a feeble attempt to shift into a more comfortable position. Failed. "Bony," she croaked.

"Anna?" The moment their eyes met, Elsa's tremulous expression collapsed. She let out a choked sob. "I thought I lost you. Does your head hurt?"

"Nah." Anna was still seeing double, so Elsa's scepticism was twice as obvious. That wouldn't do. "Can we keep it?"

"What?" Elsa registered the snow wolf sitting majestically on Anna's other side, one paw laid protectively on her arm. "Oh. When Mattias told me you were in trouble, I knew… I thought I wouldn't get to you in time. I barely remember making it. Him"

"Well, good thing you did. He saved me. You saved me."

"I know, but…" Elsa bit her lip. Her gaze lingered on the wolf's bloodied muzzle, then flitted to something further away.

Anna didn't need to look to guess what—_who_—her sister was staring at. _It wasn't the wolf,_ she wanted to say. _You didn't hurt him, Elsa. I did. I did that._ Except her tongue felt as heavy as her eyelids.

"Anna? Don't sleep; you need to stay awake. Please."

It was good advice; there was so much to do. She had to check on Kristoff and Hakon, Mattias and Sven. She needed to call an immediate council meeting and figure out what to do with the Southern Isles prince lying unconscious on Arendellian soil. Figure out what _all_ of it meant.

And she was lying to herself; because, despite the haze in her throbbing head, Anna knew exactly what it meant. What was coming.

She turned her face into the warmth of Elsa's neck, mumbling, "I'm scared."

Her sister rocked her, but it didn't conceal the tremor in her voice. "It's okay. You're safe, Anna. It's over."

But it wasn't, was it? Far from it. Anna didn't know how to face that truth; so she let her eyes fall shut, and thought of nothing at all.

* * *

A/N: Here it is! Sorry for the long wait. I'm sure this is still riddled with typos I'll need to come back and fix, but I've stared at this for way too long. This was a temperamental one that took four weeks to write 3k… four days to plow through the remaining 4k. I initially intended for the _last _chapter to end _here._ Massive miscalculations! And so we ended up with the most sinful of cliffhangers. Not sure I redeemed myself with this Unlucky Chapter Thirteen, either. You know when you care so much for a character that hurting them literally makes your heart ache? That was me this whole chapter.

A note on weapons: there's the old debate that, according to the period in which Frozen is set, there ought to be guns in the Frozenverse. But all we saw were crossbows and I cannot write gunfights anyway soooo welcome to a sword and archery world. Look the other way if you see cannons. Here be shameless historical inaccuracy.

Thanks so much for waiting and reading!


	14. Count Our Blessings

**The Next Unknown**

_14 – Count Our Blessings_

OoOoO

The sky was awake. No, wait; _she_ was awake. The sky was black. Or was that the back of her eyelids?

She had definitely slept in; she could feel it. Her head pounded, which made no sense because it should be illegal for sleeping to hurt_._ And hurt she did, absolutely everywhere; heavy bones, stiff muscles, dry lips—

"Ooh, she's awake! Hi, Anna!"

Anna groaned as she turned onto her side; that hurt, too. "Hi, Olaf... could you please speak a little softer? My head is killing me."

"Sure!" Olaf shouted, then dropped his voice to a stage-whisper. "Like this?"

"Yep. Thanks, little guy."

Anna didn't remember falling back asleep, but she must have done exactly that because the next time she opened her eyes, the room had gone from black to grey.

Her headache had settled into a soft fuzziness, but now she was painfully aware of her outrageous thirst. Anna reached blearily for the bedside table, hoping to find a glass of water, and touched something cold and soft and familiar. "Ack. Sorry, Olaf."

No response, which was weird for Olaf. Anna rubbed her eyes, hoping she hadn't knocked his head off or… or…

She blinked.

Glowing blue eyes blinked back.

Anna scrambled backwards with a yelp—and tumbled off the bed.

_She'd fallen hundreds of times before, but never like this; not as if the impact had shattered either the earth or her bones, and there was no way to tell which it was because there was blood in her eyes and her hands were tied, and her head felt like it would—_

Something licked her brow.

Anna cracked open an eye and saw nothing but snowy fur. Then she made out a dark nose and felt a snuff of air against her cheek, accompanied by a gentle paw on her shoulder.

The door banged open. "Anna! I heard—_Anna?_"

"Down here!" Anna sat up just as Elsa rushed around the bed. "Hey, so I think I'm seeing things. There's a wolf? In my bedroom?"

It was difficult to make out Elsa's face in the dimness. Anna wasn't sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn't such a long… pause.

Elsa leaned over to set something down on the bedside table. "You asked to keep him. Are you okay? Can you get up?"

"When have I ever not gotten back up?" Anna cracked as she took Elsa's outstretched hand, but it must have been the wrong thing to say because she felt her sister stiffen.

"Sit." Elsa planted Anna down on the bed and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Do you know where you are?"

"Uh, here."

"How old are you?"

"You're being weird."

"Anna."

"Three less than twenty-four. Happy?"

"What's your favourite food?"

"Same as yours." At another firm look from Elsa, Anna rolled her eyes. "Chocolate. What's with all these questions?"

Elsa lowered her hand. "You got them wrong the last three times I asked you. You said your favourite food was green."

"_Green?_ Wow, I'm a riot when I'm drunk."

"You weren't drunk, Anna. You had a concussion and a dangerously high fever."

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say, so she let Elsa lie her back down on the bed. Then she recovered her senses. "Wait, I'm not sleepy! Have I mentioned there's a wolf in my room. Is he mine now? Can I give him a name?"

Elsa tucked the blanket into place. "You already did that last time you woke. Ulf."

The wolf's ears perked up. He rested his head on the bed, gazing unblinkingly at Anna.

Anna couldn't wrap her mind around what she had heard. "Let me get this straight—you made a wolf with your powers."

"Yes."

"And instead of naming him something cool like—I dunno, Bandit?—you're saying I chose _Ulf_?"

"Yes."

"That's like calling Kjekk 'Horse'!"

"Yes, it is."

"Wait, I got it—it's because Ulf the Wolf is your favourite constellation. That's obviously what I was thinking."

"I doubt it. You kept saying '_He just looks like an Ulf'_. You giggled until you fell back asleep."

Anna turned to the wolf. "Bandit?" she called hopefully.

A tilted head.

"… Ulf?"

With one graceful leap, the creature bounded onto the bed. He padded carefully over Anna's legs, nuzzled her face, then curled up by her side.

"Drats. Too late." Anna smoothed a hand over the white fur. It was a strange texture, so fine she kept expecting it to crumble. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot; you're a big show-off, sis."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The way he went from all ice and then suddenly all snow. Very flashy. And do I smell chocolate?" Catching Elsa's unimpressed look, she added, "Please? I'm so thirsty."

Sighing, Elsa picked up a mug from the bedside table and watched Anna sit up. "Be careful; it's hot."

As soon as she touched it, though, Anna knew otherwise. "Actually…" She tipped the mug upside down.

"Oh. Sorry." For the first time since entering, Elsa sounded like herself. She righted the mug and waved her hand, thawing the contents. "It must have happened when I heard you shout. It would have spilled while I ran."

Elsa was a horrible liar, but Anna couldn't bring herself to call her out. She just grinned as she took back the mug. "It's cool. The cold never bothered me anyway."

A twitch of a smile graced Elsa's lips.

It was convenient that the drink wasn't scalding hot; Anna gulped it down and barely remembered to save some for Elsa.

When she passed it over, though, her sister shook her head. "You can finish it."

Anna hesitated, running a finger along the mug's rim. "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"I'm sorry for making you worry. And sneaking away from my guards in the first place."

She heard another sigh, then felt a light kiss on the top of her head. "I really am not upset with you, Anna."

"But you _are_ upset?"

"I don't know." Elsa's voice was a strained murmur against her hair. "Is there a word to describe my feelings towards my sister almost dying? Almost being killed?"

"I'm sorry," Anna's voice was as small as she felt.

"It's not your fault."

"I know. But I promised to break the bracelet if I was in danger… and I didn't do that."

There was a pause before Elsa spoke again. "That's the frightening part… I might not have gotten to you in time, regardless. I could have been too late."

"That wouldn't be your fault, either. It doesn't have to be anyone's fault. Like Mother and Father. There was no one to blame. It just… happened. Sometimes bad things just happen."

"And sometimes," Elsa said darkly, "they find the wrong target."

'_She'll come for you no matter where you end up.'_

"Runo!" Anna gasped. "Elsa, he's not from Weselton. He's actually—"

"I know." The calmness in her sister's voice stumped Anna. Elsa eased the mug out of her hands. "I've got everything under control. You focus on getting more rest."

"No, you don't get it. Caleb must have sent Runo. That means—"

"I'm well aware of what that means." For an instant, Anna didn't recognise her sister; all she heard was the icy voice of a queen. Then Elsa glanced at her, and her frown receded. "I do get it, Anna," she said gently. "When you're recovered, you can call a council meeting and do whatever you think is necessary. But for now, for one more day, can we please pretend that our biggest problem is the bump on your head?"

Anna pursed her lips, but then Elsa squeezed her hand. "Oh, fine_._ Mind you, you're the only one allowed to go all Big Sister Voice on—wait_, what happened to your hand?_"

Elsa blinked and looked down at the bandage on her left hand. "Ah… it's a long story. I'll tell you in the morning. Worry about yourself first."

"I'm totally fine! Look!" Anna rubbed her head. "_What _bump?"

"Pabbie took care of that." Elsa tapped Anna's right temple. "But it looks like this might scar."

"Really?!" The exclamation made Ulf startle with a bark.

Elsa raised her eyebrows.

Anna cleared her throat and tried to remember how to look dejected. "I mean: oh no… really?"

"Anna, you're a queen, not a Viking."

"You sound like Mother."

"I was actually channelling Father. Mother might not have minded; she had a scar on her right arm, remember? She told us she fell from a tree, and that was why we shouldn't climb them."

"Yeah, and then she taught me how to climb properly when she caught me trying. She was great at it. Way more coordinated than Father." Anna picked at the blanket. "Makes sense now, doesn't it? Since she was a Northuldra."

"She couldn't have told us. Or anyone else." There was an unusual edge to Elsa's voice. "We shouldn't forget that for over three decades, Arendelle viewed the Northuldra as invaders—as enemies."

"Do you think Father knew? He must have, right? They were looking for Ahtohallan together."

Elsa smiled faintly. "I know their love was true."

"Not quite what I asked, sis."

"That's all I know."

Anna grudgingly sank back against the headboard. "Well, I could have told you that, too."

"You forgot yesterday, you know. That they were gone."

"You're kidding."

"You woke up crying because you wanted Mother's chicken soup. Poor Gerda was beside herself; she made half a dozen batches before she allowed me to try."

Anna turned her head. "You _cooked?_"

"I attempted to."

"No, no, listen to the question properly: _you_ cooked?"

"_Yes._" Elsa's smile widened as she tucked her hair behind one ear. "I've seen Mother make it before, but I couldn't recall the recipe without going through the motions myself."

"Whoa. Was it so bad it put me back in a coma?"

"You liked it, actually. That was how I knew you were still delirious."

It felt good to laugh. Anna dropped her head on Elsa's shoulder, resisting the urge to rub her eyes. From the way Elsa shifted to make her more comfortable, though, she probably knew. Her sister's shoulder was still torturously bony, but Anna felt snug. Safe.

"Elsa?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks for making Ulf so he could, you know… save me."

Right before she drifted off, she heard Elsa whisper, "No, Anna; you saved yourself."

OoOoO

For the first time since Hakon Erling could remember, his mind was tired. It was the windowless dungeon, devoid of books and problems to solve—too much time to fill with his own thoughts. Time that he didn't need, because it had taken mere minutes to come to the conclusions that mattered. Conclusions he did not like.

If he stopped thinking, he would start worrying.

If he started worrying, he would start remembering.

_Huddled under the dining table, biting down on his jacket's collar to keep from crying as he clutched his arm. Watching his mother's shadow run through the house, calling desperately for a "Hakon" that was not him. Waiting for her to remember that she still had a son; one she'd named after a dead man._

His shoulder ached.

"It's been too long," Petra grumbled in the next cell.

Kristoff yawned. "Too long for what?"

"A guard change. It's preposterous that they left us unsupervised in the interim, let alone for this long. It's time. Herman, Ronny—get ready."

Hakon opened his eyes as the other guards sounded off.

Kristoff's look of fatigue switched to one of confusion. "Wait, what's happening?"

"We're leaving, sir."

"Right. Sorry—how exactly are we going to do that?"

Petra plucked a long, wooden hair pin from her silver hair, which remained coiffed in a strict bun. The pin was purely ornamental. When Petra tapped it against the bars with an unexpectedly solid _clink_, Hakon realised it wasn't wooden at all.

"Hold up," Kristoff blurted incredulously. "Are you telling me we've been stuck down here for nearly three days—and you've been sitting there with a _lock pick_ in your hair this entire time?"

"My apologies. There wasn't an opportune moment to tell you." Petra inspected the lock on the door, then stuck her arm through the bars and started probing with the hair pin. "Now, though, seems to be an opportune time to leave."

"You—I can't even—okay, but _then_ what? They have weapons, Petra! We don't."

She paused to crack her knuckles. "Don't we?"

"You can't go up against armed guards with your bare fists."

"Can't I?"

"I still have the dagger in my boot," Ronny called from another cell. "Buggers barely searched us properly, and they didn't even cuff us. It's almost like they want us to escape. "

"That's what I've been saying," Herman huffed. "What if it's a trap?"

"What of it?" Petra retorted. "We're already—literally—trapped. It's their word against ours. Prince Fredrik could be perfectly healthy and waltzing under the moonlight for all we know. We have our own prince to think of, and we're getting him home."

Kristoff ran a hand through his hair, which now looked as unwashed as Hakon felt. "I don't think the Duke was faking it. He desperately wanted an antidote. What if the crystals can't save Fredrik?"

"You're too naïve," Hakon said.

Kristoff and Petra startled; it seemed he had feigned sleep too well.

"You're all too focused on Weselton. It's exactly what he wants."

Kristoff glanced at Petra, then back at Hakon. "'He'?"

_Isn't it obvious?_ It was there on the tip of Hakon's tongue, a reflexive splash of acid. Then he noticed the way Kristoff studied him with a slight frown, as if Hakon was a painting he believed he could still understand if he could only figure out the correct lens through which to view him.

It was futile: no one truly saw through Hakon.

_She couldn't see him, but he told himself that it would only take a few more minutes._ _Soon, Mother would calm down and remember him, and then he could crawl out. He'd tell her he had tripped down the stairs and let her fuss over him and call him her "sweet, uncoordinated boy", as if she hadn't mistaken him for an intruder and pushed him herself. They could be normal again in just a few more minutes. For a few more days. Then he'd be six years old._

"Who do you think stands to gain the most from framing Arendelle for Prince Fredrik's death?"

Kristoff looked thrown by Hakon's tone of patience. "Earlier, you made it sound like that would have been the Duke, but it obviously isn't."

"Then ask yourself—who would least want to see our two nations forming an alliance at this time?"

It seemed to dawn on Kristoff. "The Southern Isles."

"The Duke confirmed that Gregory's siege failed. If Caleb intends to follow through with his threat to attack, none would expect him to do it so soon. Gregory would not have given Caleb an easy victory, which means Caleb's troops and resources should be exhausted right now. They wouldn't stand a chance against a united front. If that alliance was fractured, though, and its leadership thrown into disarray..."

"He's mad." Kristoff sounded awed.

"Brilliantly mad," Hakon corrected. "If Gregory had the keenest eye for combat in the Isles, then Caleb has the sharpest eye for strategy. He was nothing but a loose cannon under his father's watch, but the madness is a foil; though his actions seem crazy, he knows exactly what he's doing. Do you have that door open yet?"

The question was directed at Petra, who had stopped picking the lock to listen. Her dark look dropped as she looked to Hakon in visible surprise. "If the Southern Isles is our mutual enemy, can't you explain that to the Duke?"

"He's a shrewd weasel; I expect he understood the situation when he realised it wasn't us who poisoned Fredrik. Why do you think we're sitting here under such low security? The Duke doesn't care about us, or any political scandal. Weselton be damned—that boy is his world. If Fredrik dies, I wouldn't put it past the Duke to simply surrender when ships appear on the horizon. Caleb knows that, and I know him. He's incapable of discovering weaknesses and not using them."

Hakon looked at Kristoff. "Now, see if you can make sense of this one on your own. The Duke is the backbone of Weselton. If you planned on turning two nations against each other, would you pass up the chance to weaken them _both?"_

Kristoff paled. "Arendelle. _Anna._"

Hakon turned back to Petra. "So, hurry up and get us out of here."

"I'm _trying_." She cursed as she fumbled the lockpick. "My hands would be steadier if those cross-eyed goat monkeys had the decency to feed us properly."

_His stomach rumbled in the dark. Mother was still crying upstairs and he didn't dare make noise in the kitchen—as far as she knew, he wasn't supposed to exist. And maybe it would be better if he didn't; but the searing pain in his shoulder reminded him he was here, and that he was hungry. So he slipped out and followed the familiar aroma of Katja's soup. By the time he reached the orphanage, he had an iron-clad explanation for his bruises. 'I'm fine' was hardly a lie by this point. He _was _fine. He was always fine._

"How's your shoulder? Can you walk?"

Hakon looked up to find Kristoff watching him through the bars. He hadn't realised he had been absently massaging his shoulder, and stopped. "I'm fine. It popped back into the socket on the first night."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't notice."

"Considering it is my body, Your Highness, it would have been rather strange if you had."

"I'm just saying; it's a painful process. I thought you would have, well, said something."

"You expected me to be the type to scream bloody murder," Hakon deduced flatly.

Kristoff shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

_There was no one else to blame. Not Katja, who was too busy monitoring a dozen children—proper orphans, unlike him—to question how he had fallen down the stairs. Not the other children, who chattered among themselves and barely looked up when the snobbish rich boy took his usual spot at the far end of the table. It was his own fault. The first time he'd stayed at the orphanage while his mother was 'unwell', he was the one who had gone straight to the bookshelf and ignored every child who tried to talk to him. He didn't need pity. Didn't need friends. All he needed was to grow up faster._

"Got it!" Petra kissed her lock pick and kicked open her cell door—

—at the same time that a guard rounded the corner.

The man stared. Then he bellowed, "Prisoner on the—"

Petra darted under his frantic spear thrust and cut him off with a knee to the gut. Twisting the spear out of his grasp, she slammed him in the wall and pinned him down with a forearm to his windpipe. She twirled the spear in her other hand until she had the blade pointed between his eyes.

Hakon noticed her hands were suddenly steady as stone.

Petra put her face inches from the guard's ruddy one. "Keys. Now."

He shook his head, gasping.

She rolled her eyes and kicked him in the crotch.

Wincing, Kristoff watched the guard drop bonelessly to the floor. "I take back what I said about bare fists."

Stampeding footsteps echoed off the walls. Petra swore and gave up rummaging through the guard's pockets, springing to her feet as reinforcements poured into the corridor.

"You spoke too soon," Hakon told Kristoff.

"What in nine hells is going on?" The Duke of Weselton pushed his way through the throng of guards. He let out a squeak when he saw Petra glowering at him, and hurriedly ducked back behind his men. "How did you—oh, for God's sake, put that down! I come in peace!"

"_We_ came in peace, you bald rooster," Petra shot back. "Pardon me for having no confidence in your definition of the word."

"Tell her to put down her weapon," the Duke hissed at Hakon.

"You're mistaken, Your Grace; I'm not the highest-ranking official in our party."

The Duke huffed and shot an irritable look down the cell block. "Call her off before she gets hurt," he told Kristoff.

"Tell us how he is first."

"What?"

"Fredrik. Did the crystals work? Is he okay?"

The Duke's expression shifted. "No. Not yet."

"So the crystals did their job," Hakon said. "Otherwise, he'd already be dead, and you'd have left us to rot down here. Except you don't look like you came to thank His Highness, so why don't we cut to the chase?"

The Duke puffed out his chest. "Business."

Hakon and Kristoff shared a look.

"Yeah," Kristoff intoned. "We don't trust your definition of _that_ word either."

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, the Duke snapped his fingers. Someone handed him a stack of papers bound with a clip, which he tossed onto the floor between him and Petra. When no one moved or spoke, the Duke muttered under his breath and snapped his fingers a second time. A jangle of keys landed on top of the papers.

Petra used the spearpoint to fish up the keys by the ring, and launched them through the bars of Kristoff's cell, keeping her eyes on the annoyed Duke.

Kristoff stuck his hand through the bars and fumbled until he found the keyhole. Hakon realised he had expected another trick from the Duke until there was a _click_. Then, when his own cell door opened, he realised a part of him had also expected to be left behind.

"You sure you're okay?" Kristoff asked in a low voice.

_He didn't see her until she pulled out the chair opposite him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had tried to sit with him, and hoped for a second that it was Katja, finally realising that something was wrong. But the other child didn't speak, so he didn't look up. They ate in silence until he finished his soup and reached for a bread roll. And felt a tug from the other end._

"_Sorry," she said sheepishly, drawing back. "You can have it."_

_Finally, he glanced up and blinked as he took in the brown-haired teenager sitting across from him. He'd never seen her before; was she new? The war was over. Everyone but his mother knew it had ended before he was born. But at least he still had a mother. If this girl was here, it meant she didn't. She must have lost her parents recently._

_It was the last bread roll in the basket. Dropping eye contact, he started ripping it in half, but a painful twinge lanced down his bruised arm. The bread dropped onto his plate._

_The girl stared, then got up and came around the table. "Hey, are you okay?" _

_He didn't register that he'd shaken his head until he was crying into her shoulder._

Hakon nodded and bent to pick up the papers on the floor. When he handed the stack to Kristoff, though, the queen's husband shook his head. "You read faster. And smarter."

It only took one glance for Hakon to recognise the document in his hands. "This is our trade agreement."

The Duke cleared his throat. "It's been amended."

Hakon flipped through the pages. "You're not giving us iron."

"What?" Kristoff rounded on the Duke. "Come on, old man; you were about to sign off on it earlier—you know Anna handed you the best deal you're going to get before the Southern Isles comes knocking. And they _will_ come because they're already here. If you still think we poisoned Fredrik, then either you're an even bigger idiot than I am, or Caleb's got you in his pocket so—"

"If you think I'm working with the bastard who tried to murder my nephew, then _you_ are an even bigger idiot than you know," the Duke snapped.

"You know it was Caleb?"

"Of course I bloody know it was Caleb!"

"Then why the hell did you turn on us?"

"Because it would be _simpler_ if Arendelle was behind it! Good lord, you're as dense as a buffalo. Caleb sent that preposterous blackmail, and no one responded. But if he really is the one who came after Fredrik—after me—then that means he's coming for all of us. So sign that blasted agreement already."

Looking bewildered, Kristoff turned around. "Erling?"

Hakon looked up from the pages of the agreement. "He's not giving us iron. He's offering us readymade weapons and armour."

"I'm offering you proper instruments of war," the Duke pointed out, "unlike whatever toys your peace-loving smiths would have made. If Caleb's already making his move, we don't have the time for you to spend months banging at metal. You're lucky Weselton is always ready."

"That's an interesting way to admit you're paranoid. We appreciate the offer, but Queen Anna sent us here to purchase raw materials. We don't have the sums to pay for those weapons."

"Of course you don't. That's why I included a clause detailing reparations once we've won this senseless war."

"_You're_ giving us a loan? From the goodness of your heart?"

"That's a sneaky way to accuse me of being stingy," the Duke scowled.

"Have you looked in a mirror?"

"Are you _trying_ to make me retract my generous terms?"

"They are too generous, aren't they? What do you get out of this?"

"Not enough, which is why a signature alone will not satisfy me. If Caleb knows what he's doing—and I'm willing to bet that he does—he will hit Weselton first and Arendelle last. We have far greater military strength than you, but let me hear you vow, right now, that when the time comes, Arendelle will remember Weselton's favour."

"I assure you, Arendelle will honour all conditions—"

"No. Every word that rolls off your silver tongue comes with a dozen loopholes." The Duke nodded at Kristoff. "You. I want your word."

Kristoff blinked. Hakon expected him to look back at him for advice, but it didn't happen.

Kristoff stepped forward, gently lowering Petra's spear as he passed her. Stopping in front of the Duke, he held out his hand. "Anna is Queen of Arendelle, so it's her promises that matter. All I can give you is my word that I know the woman I married. She would never turn her back on anyone, least of all an ally."

For a long moment, the Duke studied Kristoff through his spectacles. Then he harrumphed and slapped a bronze pen into Kristoff's hand, lingering for a half-second handshake. "Just sign it and get on the ship before your sister-in-law notices you've been gone too long. I've already witnessed what she can do because of family. I'm not keen on discovering what she will do _for_ them."

Kristoff gestured for Hakon to pass him the agreement. "If you think Elsa's the scary one, you're not ready for Anna. She's a real feisty… hold on—did you say _ship_?"

OoOoO

As soon as Honeymaren and Ryder's wagon disappeared across the bridge, Anna whirled around and said, "Okay, spill."

Elsa choked on the yawn she'd been hiding behind her hand. "I-I don't know what—"

"Yeah, no, you are way too smart to play dumb. That was the most awkward goodbye ever! What happened between you guys? And don't say 'nothing' as if it's normal for Honeymaren and Ryder to suddenly leave at, like, five o'clock in the morning. No sane person does that."

"Kristoff does for his harvesting trips. Just because you're not a morning person doesn't mean others can't be. That's why I told you to go back to sleep."

"You know what you didn't tell me? That they were _leaving_ today. If it's supposed to be so _oh la la, top secret mission_, maybe you shouldn't have tripped on those pots and pans and woken me up."

"Which we need to discuss. Why on earth do you have kitchenware sitting on the floor of your bedroom?"

"Gerda thought it would catch out assassins. At least we can tell her it works. Now stop dawdling and tell me what's going on!"

In the feeble lantern light, Elsa considered the sight of her sister standing there with her nightgown and wild bed hair. If Anna was perceptive enough to pick up on the situation, maybe she was well enough for the truth.

"For the record, I was going to tell you at breakfast."

"Liar. You never talk with your mouth full."

"After breakfast," Elsa corrected half-heartedly.

Her sister's stare bored into her.

"… Before breakfast, then."

"How about breakfast right now?"

"The cooks aren't awake."

"Oh no, we're going to starve. Guess you'll just have to make soup for us."

Elsa had a feeling that Anna would never let that one go, so she only sighed and let her sister tug her towards the castle. "Close the gates, please," she called back to the guards. Sensing Anna's dismay, Elsa patted her hand. "We'll open them again when the day begins. It's just for... safety."

"I get it," Anna sighed. "I just thought we were done with being shut in here while everything happens out there. Got any coping strategies?"

Elsa glanced over at her sister's glum smile. Anna trudged after her like she used to as a child, pouting and making Elsa feel guilty for cleaning up the snow so their parents wouldn't know they'd been out of bed for hours before sunrise. Thankfully, the same tactics still worked. "Hot cocoa?"

"Yes!" Anna's stride regained its bounce as they walked through the empty corridors. "Don't think I haven't noticed you're still trying to distract me. Oh my God—did you three have a fight? Are you embarrassed? You know I've got your back, right?"

Elsa had to fight back a smile. "No such thing happened. I promise I'll answer all your questions as soon as we sit down."

"I've done nothing but sit and sleep! You and Mattias barely let me go down to eat in the dining hall. I'm _fine_, Elsa. See?" Anna skipped ahead and performed a lopsided pirouette that nearly sent her careening into the wall. "Okay, but I could never do one of those to begin with."

Elsa's gaze lingered on the still-tender scar that ran down the side of Anna's right temple. Anna didn't remember those first few days, when she had been the furthest from 'fine'; how, despite Pabbie's magic, Elsa had been forced to watch her sister mumble incoherently through a raging fever her ice could not quell. There had been nausea, tears, and delirium. The worst, though, had been the flashes of fear each time Anna momentarily regained consciousness and stared back at her with a stranger's glazed eyes.

A hand waved in front of her face. "Helloooo? Anna to Elsa. Where'd you go, sis?"

Blinking back at her sister's inquisitive grin, bright enough to summon dawn itself, it was impossible to tell that it was the first time in nearly a week that Anna had been able to walk herself out of the castle without experiencing a dizzy spell. Elsa felt the ground return beneath her feet. "I was entertaining the thought of locking you in your room forever, to keep you out of trouble."

"Pshh! I can climb out of windows better than I can walk on flat ground."

"That's not something to be proud of, Anna."

"Those are the words of a party pooper. Hi, Ulf!"

Elsa absolutely did not mean to squeak and leap behind Anna.

The wolf looked up at her, head tilted, then padded to Anna, who was laughing so hard her face was red. "_Eep. _You actually said _eep_! Ulf, your mother is a shiny scaredy cat."

"I am not his mother! If anything, he seems to favour you."

"Naturally; I'm everyone's favourite." Anna knelt down and rubbed Ulf's cheeks, saying in a goofy voice, "Who's a good Ulf? Are you a good Ulf? Oh yes, you are!" She giggled when he licked her face.

Elsa watched them silently. After a moment, Ulf tipped his head back and his bright eyes locked with hers. As if he knew her thoughts.

Olaf wouldn't have been able to startle her like that. She would have sensed him, the same way she had woken after Ahtohallan and known that Marshmallow and the snowgies were gone, too. Not that Elsa didn't have that link with Ulf; like the others, he was a familiar spectre roaming the back of her mind. But he was the only one whose connection to her seemed to wane when Anna was in both their sights.

The sky lightened as they moved through the castle, but the kitchen, sitting deep in the building's bowels, remained pitch black. Elsa raised her hand, intending to create a trail of crystals—until she noticed Ulf was suddenly glowing in the dark. His fur became radiant, scattering glittery fractals across the walls like constellations.

"_Epic_," Anna breathed. "Did you know he could do that?"

Elsa kept a straight face as she lit the stove and put on a kettle of water. "Mothers shouldn't know all their children's secrets." By the time she turned back around, Anna had already found a knife and was peeling an apple. "Be careful with that, please."

"Says the one who sliced open her own hand. Ryder told me you were helping him carve a wooden wolf. Is that where your inspiration for Ulf came from? Aside from the favourite constellation thing, I mean."

Elsa's hand was mostly healed; without the bandages, all that remained was a faint streak across her palm. "I honestly couldn't tell you."

"Aw, man!" Anna complained as the long string of apple skin she had been peeling broke off. She popped it into her mouth, making Elsa smile. Anna wasn't picky with her fruit, but she must have noticed that Gerda always skinned the apples before delivering a platter to Elsa.

"How about you tell me about Honeymaren and Ryder instead? I'm sitting—see?" Anna boosted herself onto the countertop. Ulf sat down on the floor in front of her, resting his head atop one of her dangling feet.

It struck Elsa that the recent string of disasters had turned too many thoughts into secrets, which now threatened to burst from her chest. She could no longer hold them all in. "They were attacked in the square… by a citizen of Arendelle. At knifepoint."

The apple rolled across the floor and under a stool. Ulf bounded after it.

Anna wore a look of incomprehension. "They were _what?_"

"They stayed until now because they were worried about you… and because Mattias and I didn't think it would be safe for them to be seen leaving after what happened. Sending a contingent to escort them would have drawn too much attention. That's the reason they left so early."

"Why wouldn't it be safe for them in Arendelle? If it was just one person—" Anna's eyes widened. "It was Freya, wasn't it? Hakon's mother? She's ill, Elsa—she mistakes me for Mother and thinks Father is still the king. Seeing Honeymaren and Ryder in the square probably frightened her. It makes sense; to her, the Northuldra are still our enemies."

Councillor Belland had already helped Elsa put those pieces together. There were more fragments, though, that they'd known could not be discussed without Anna. If Elsa didn't tell her now, her sister would be blindsided in the next council meeting.

"Anna, Freya may not be the only one who believes that. The square was full. Many saw what happened… and no one stepped forward to help Honeymaren and Ryder. If I hadn't been there—"

"That can't be right," Anna said desperately. "They've been selling at the market for months now. Everyone knows them. Florian gives them free cookies, and you know how stingy he is to everyone except us. Someone would have said something."

"I know."

"Why do I get the feeling you're just saying that to make me feel better?"

"You're not the only one who wants to believe in our people."

The sound of crackling flames under the kettle made its feeble attempt to fill the silence that grew between them. The water was taking unusually long to boil. Elsa wondered if that was her fault.

"Maybe this is what Kristoff was talking about." Anna's eyes were fixed on Ulf, as he pawed curiously at the apple she had dropped. "He was bullied for a bunch of things growing up, but he told me it got worse when he learned about his heritage and started wearing Sami clothes. The other kids made fun of his shoes and said he smelled like reindeer before Sven was even in the picture. And when he became an ice harvester, he kept getting cheated. It made it hard for him to trust people, so he just… didn't. Not until he met us. Then suddenly everyone was nice to him. I thought it was just both sides, you know—seeing the light or something."

Anna turned to Elsa with a lost expression. "What I'm trying to say is: Kristoff is different, but he still grew up in Arendelle."

"Honeymaren and Ryder are another kind of different," Elsa finished softly, "and they are Northuldra."

"Well, so are we."

There was another pause. Neither of them said it, but Elsa knew the question was on both their minds: _Are we?_

Anna sullenly said, "I wish Kristoff was here. How many days has it been since we got his letter?"

It had been a momentous delivery. The sight of a Weselton rider galloping towards the castle had sent the castle into a mad scramble. Mattias mobilised a dozen guards to intercept the messenger while Elsa looked on from a watchtower, waiting for any sign of trouble. It had puzzled her to see one of Mattias's men run off, only to return with a bucket of water and an armful of hay for the exhausted horse.

Apparently, Mattias bemusedly informed her afterwards, the Duke had instructed the man to ride hard and see that "the Snow Queen received her brother-in-law's report of good health post-haste". Elsa had promptly passed the letter to Anna, then nearly lost her balance when her sister read the message and threw her arms around her, exclaiming, '_They did it! He's on his way home!'_

Seeing Anna's irrepressible keenness now put a wry smile on Elsa's face. "It's been less than twelve hours, silly. They might have made it back by now if they had taken the carriage, but Kristoff mentioned a ship."

"What's with that, anyway? Where did the ship come from? How could he only write _two_ lines and spend most of the words telling me to be careful? I wanted to know if he lost weight or grew a beard! Argh!" Anna threw up her hands, nearly knocking over the kettle. "Well, if Kristoff's okay, at least it confirms that Runo really was lying about Weselton hiring him. Mattias said he found a bounty note in his pocket, 'signed' by the Duke. Can you believe that? I mean, I'm flattered by the bounty, but really? It's cute how innocently Runo thinks when it comes to framing someone. Oh, and I've been thinking—Oskar said the twins got caught messing around in Corona before, so maybe Runo was just getting into trouble by himself. Caleb might not be involved."

Ulf raised his head and looked straight at Elsa. She wondered how acutely he sensed the storm beneath her skin. The wolf didn't speak, but she could almost hear his voice feeding into her turmoil: _Don't tell her. She doesn't need to know._

Except Anna was the queen. And she might always be Elsa's little sister, but the scar on her brow was a stark reminder that not even magic could protect her forever.

Elsa twisted her fingers. "I wouldn't be so quick to rule out Caleb."

Anna's optimism faltered. "Oh. Did you talk to Runo?"

"I didn't."

"Is he being tight-lipped? Let me go down and interrogate him. He's got to have a ticklish spot somewhere… hey, Elsa? I think the water's boiling."

It wasn't. The kettle was steaming, but only because the water within had turned to ice.

Elsa clenched her fists, her jaw, her entire body. Then she forced herself to release the tension as she met Anna's eyes. "You can't speak to him, Anna. He didn't wake up."

"What? Does he have a concussion, too?"

Elsa shook her head. Ulf returned to Anna's side and sat at her feet once more.

Anna seemed to realise that something was wrong. "What is it?"

_Don't tell her. Don't tell her._

"He's dead."

"What?"

Elsa reached out to take Anna's hands. She held her sister's confused gaze. "Runo is dead. He was already unconscious when we found you, but then he… deteriorated rapidly. We tried to get him to the trolls. He didn't make it."

"But… what…" Anna's enormous eyes desperately searching Elsa's. "I don't get it. What happened? He was fine—even after Oskar did a number on him. Ulf barely touched him. And all I did was—" She stopped. Went pale.

_Lie to her. She'll believe you. She wants to believe you._

"Elsa," Anna whispered. "I hit him on the head."

"I know."

"Really hard."

"I know."

"No, you don't understand." Anna's voice trembled. "I hit him _really_ hard. The crossbow broke_._ I heard—"

Elsa wrapped her arms around Anna; her sister immediately crumpled into her, sliding off the counter to bury her face in her shoulder. _This is why I wanted you to sit down,_ Elsa thought hazily.

Oskar had described it to her. The _crack_. The blood streaming from Runo's nose, mixed with tendrils of clear fluid. She had seen for herself the terrible bruise on his shaven skull as he'd lain white with death in the dungeon. On her ice. Again.

"Anna, he would have killed you and Oskar."

"But he didn't." Anna drew in a small, muffled gasp as she clutched Elsa's arms. "_I_ killed _him_."

_She's your baby sister,_ Mother had said twenty-one years ago. _Will you look after her, Elsa?_

Then, when Anna started crawling and creating chaos, Father had laughed, _Someone needs to protect the world from this child._

She should have known she couldn't do both. Yet she had fought to keep it at bay; kept telling the universe to let her sister spend one more day happy and carefree. And another. Then another.

If she had let go earlier, would Anna have grown cautious enough to bring guards with her that day? Would Runo be chained in the dungeon, resentful but alive? Would her little sister still have blood on her hands?

It wasn't up to her anymore, was it? It never had been.

"I'm sorry," Elsa whispered. "I'm sorry, Anna."

"I didn't mean to do it… I really didn't."

She squeezed it through her tight throat one more time. "I know."

"No, you don't," Anna moaned. "_You _haven't killed anyone."

"I haven't. But I can, very easily. And I nearly did. Twice. But you got back up both times, and somehow, what I did didn't stop you from loving me."

Anna looked up with red-rimmed eyes.

"I know that you're scared. You might never forgive yourself. I didn't—haven't. So I won't tell you to do that, and I won't try to convince you it was the right thing to do. But we won't stop loving you because you're _alive_. Do you understand that?"

Anna went quiet. "I was going to say that won't make his family feel any better, but then I remembered they might not even care. And that's… worse. But I still need to tell them."

"No, you don't."

"Elsa, I know Runo is… was… a prince, and this could start something big. But we can't just _hide_ it."

"I'm not saying we should; I'm saying I already took care of that."

"You did?"

Elsa nodded. She should have waited for Anna; for the queen's decision. Under normal circumstances, her actions could trigger a war. Except she already knew the future. "I'm not sure Caleb will mourn Runo, but I am certain that he has a greater design in mind. Sending Runo could have been nothing more than a distraction."

"How do you know that? Gregory's siege broke less than a week ago. Caleb can't seriously be thinking of marching on us _now._"

"I saw it in the vision I've been telling you about. I went to the trolls hoping to find clues about the Nokk, but Pabbie showed me more than that. The Nokk was angry. There were ravens, too; I'm not yet sure what that means. But I also saw a sword. I saw you get hurt. And I saw ships, Anna. I think we both know what that means."

She hated seeing the conflict of emotions warring on Anna's face as her sister wavered between grief and her duties as queen. "How many?"

"Too many." Elsa gave her sister's hand a small squeeze. "It will be all right. We'll face it together."

"Niklas," Anna said abruptly. "He didn't make the trip to form an alliance with Arendelle. He wanted your powers on his side." She hesitated. "Runo, too. And probably Caleb."

It was a good thing that Anna hadn't been conscious enough to witness Elsa's reaction when she had come to the same conclusion that first night. It meant that Elsa could keep her expression neutral, and her hands steady.

It didn't escape her notice that Ulf grew brighter, though.

"You should, too, Anna."

"Should what?"

"Use me."

"_What?_"

"Arendelle lacks martial strength. If war is on its way, we need to rally our resources. My powers are a unique resource. It would be more efficient to strategise with them in mind."

"Stop talking about yourself like you're some sort of weapon!" Anna gripped Elsa's arms. "I've told you a hundred times: you can't keep setting yourself on fire for other people, Elsa."

"Would you be able to do it, Anna? Watch Arendelle burn, knowing that you could put out the fire faster than a hundred men could fill their buckets?"

"I'm not saying… I know your magic is strong; I know _you_ are strong. But I—" Anna wrung her hands. "If I use you like that, how am I any different to Niklas and Caleb?"

Elsa gave a slight smile. "You don't need to _be_ different. You _are_ the difference."

Anna stared back at her, brow puckered, eyes clear as windows into her soul. "That's not fair. I told you to stop using that as your ace card."

"Then let me be your ace card."

"Wow. Arrogant much?" Anna smiled faintly. "What do we do now, sis?"

"For starters, I need to ask for Your Majesty's pardon."

"Oh boy. What did you do?"

"I may have sent Caleb a somewhat loaded message. From one older sibling to another."

OoOoO

"_Magic? It has been a long time indeed."_

Hans was used to the baiting by now. The voice kept him up through the night, whittling down his sanity and trying to make him acknowledge that it was more than a sophisticated hallucination. But he knew how to suppress and endure. He'd spent his entire life practicing.

"That's quite an ability," Hendrick quipped, eyeing the flawless ice coffin encasing Runo's body. "No wonder you didn't stand a chance against her, Hansy."

"Don't call me that."

"You don't sound happy about your promotion. Aksel and Gregory are dead, Lars scurried off, and the others as good as defected. If Rudi also doesn't return from Weselton, that makes you, what, second in line? That's a considerable upgrade."

Someone behind them obnoxiously cleared their throat. "Third in line. F-For the throne."

Hendrick rolled his eyes so dramatically that Hans saw it without turning his head. "As opposed to the bathroom line, yes. Thank you for clarifying. Go call your father, boy."

"I am not a boy! I am the crown prince of—"

Hans looked over his shoulder at his oldest nephew; a tall, knobbly kneed scarecrow of seventeen. They were closer in age than Hans was to Caleb, but the boy immediately looked chastised when their eyes met. _Crown prince of chickens,_ Hans thought. "If you had even a single brain cell, you would make yourself scarce before Caleb catches on that you're too cowardly to go near a dead body."

"I'm not—"

"Jesper. Scram."

Watching their nephew shuffle out of the hall, Hendrick shook his head. "Our parents spoiled Caleb into fearing nothing, and now Helena's coddled their son so much he has the spine of an earthworm. We'd better start raising the white flags as soon as that boy ever becomes king. Good thing there might not be a nation left after this war." He shot Hans a sideways look. "I thought this would end after Gregory was out of the picture. Caleb has a plan, right?"

"Hell if I know."

"Bullshit. That creepy blood bond means you're in each other's head."

"He is not in my head," Hans snapped.

"_I am, though,"_ the voice pointed out smugly.

Grinding his teeth, Hans glowered at Hendrick. "His thoughts are too chaotic to understand, so you'll forgive me if I'm uninterested in learning the inner workings of a… of someone like him."

"You should just say it, little brother."

Caleb strode into the hall. Hans suspected that his brother could somehow suppress their connection at will, allowing him to blindside him like this.

He dipped into a stiff bow. "Your Majesty."

Caleb smiled coolly. "That's not the word you were thinking earlier. It was shockingly barbaric. Mother would be appalled."

Their mother hadn't left her room since Hans moved back into his. According to Hendrick, she hadn't seen daylight since their father's death. The only one she talked to was three-year-old Christian, who the maids believed she kept mistaking for Aksel.

Caleb studied Runo, then ran a finger across the ice. "Such beautiful workmanship, and the consideration to preserve our brother's body on his last journey. Arendelle sent us quite a gift."

"There was no note," Hendrick reported. "The ice is a dead giveaway, though. It's practically a declaration of war."

"No; this is growth. The Snow Queen believes she has seen through our best move and wants us to know it. She's finally learning to use her reputation."

Caleb might have put up mental walls between them, but Hans had spent too long reading other people to miss the satisfaction in his brother's voice.

"You wanted them to fail," he accused. "Killing a prince, kidnapping a queen, turning two nations on each other—it's too much for Rudi and Runo, and you knew it. If those idiots were capable of subtlety, they wouldn't have gotten caught in Corona. Yet you still separated them and sent them with no backup."

"I didn't want it," Caleb answered calmly, still running a hand along the ice coffin. "I merely expected it. It would have been ideal if Runo had brought back the Queen of Arendelle, and I would have preferred an informant in their dungeon as opposed to our crypt. Now, though, it is they who have provoked us. Our conquest has merit."

Hans' fist came down on top of the coffin. "We both know you don't give a rat's ass about merit! Damn it, Caleb—Runo is _dead_."

Caleb didn't bat an eyelash at the outburst. "So are Father, Aksel, and Gregory. You seem disproportionately upset over someone who pretended you were invisible for two years. Or is it the length of your own paltry life that worries you? Fret not, little brother." He raised his right arm. "We are connected, you and I."

The matching script carved into Hans' left arm tingled. _Brother._

Then there was the chill of the coffin beneath his hand. He felt the tremors in his heartstrings as the magical ice called to him. To the water spirit trapped beneath his skin.

"_It seems I am your only ally, child,"_ the voice informed unhelpfully.

"Go on."

Hans' head snapped up. "What?"

Taking a step back, Caleb nodded towards the coffin. "You want to break something. You've had enough time to experiment with your new talent. Show me."

He couldn't be serious. Hans let out a bitter snort. "You know I can barely draw water up the well as it is. How do you expect me to shatter ice?"

"Successfully. Ice is but the solid state of water, is it not?" Caleb's gaze drilled into him. "If you cannot do this, how am I to trust you can fulfil the first promise you made to me? That, after all, is the only reason you are still breathing."

This time, it was Hans' turn to raise his arm as a reminder. "Except now you can't kill me without killing yourself. Connected, remember?"

"Did you forget you are speaking to a man who lost all interest in living twelve years ago?"

Hans' eyes flicked briefly towards the gold chain barely visible around Caleb's neck. Caleb had worn it for most of Hans' life, but now he knew what dangled from the other end: a pendant with a woman's portrait.

When his gaze returned to Caleb's face, his brother's smile was even more chilling. "Caleb—sir. Be reasonable. I can't—"

Caleb raised one hand and, looking directly at Hans, used his other hand to bend his fingers backwards.

Hans yelped as the pain ignited. Same hand, same fingers. The unflexed limb looked no different, and yet the sensation of overstretched tendons and screaming joints was very, very real. "Stop! Stop it!"

Caleb's fingers were now nearly perpendicular to the back of his hand. He wouldn't hesitate to break both their hands, and Hans knew it. Because Caleb's inability to feel pain never stopped him from causing it.

"Go on," the king said again.

Hans' other hand was still fisted atop Runo's coffin. The unnaturally cold ice had snared his skin, holding him in place. There was nowhere to run. No point.

He tried. He reached into the power swimming within, and pulled. That was how he'd learned to transfer water from one glass to another with a thought, and walk across the courtyard untouched by last night's rainstorm.

Yet the only thing the ice—Elsa's ice—gave him was a feeble rattle.

His left hand burned. Caleb's fingers arched towards his wrist.

_Help me,_ Hans demanded.

Nothing. He expected spite from the water spirit, who had so far conspired to do nothing but sabotage his attempts to wrestle its element under his control. It usually took enjoyment in his pain, and ought to be taunting him right now. Instead, it had hidden itself so deeply in his subconscious that, for the first time since the iron basin, Hans found himself with uncontested reign over the river within.

"_It is hiding from you because it knows that it can be done,"_ said the voice.

Hans finally broke his silence. _Then make it tell me how!_

"_Unnecessary. Water has memory."_

The bones in his hand crackled.

Hans squeezed his eyes shut. And he saw.

_The intruder had frozen the wave, but the Dark Sea was more than that. More than her. It sank, pummelled, dragged. Unworthy. When she slammed her mortal hands into its legs and froze its body with her false element, it finally took her seriously. Shattering the ice took slightly more than a thought, significantly less than a miracle._

Hans pushed_._

The coffin exploded beneath his hand. Water surged across the polished floor.

The pressure on his hand eased. Hans sank to his knees, gasping. His brother's body lay soaked before him.

"Next time, you'll do it faster," Caleb stated unceremoniously, paying no heed to the squelching of his shoes as he crouched by Runo's side. He drew a dagger from his belt, and when he registered the tremble of his injured hand, nonchalantly switched the blade to his other hand. "Now, leave us."

"You piece of—"

Hendrick grabbed Hans and dragged him out of the hall, snapping at the exhausted guards to shut the doors. "Haven't you learned your lesson?" he hissed at Hans. "He's the king!"

"He's not human!"

"And what good would it do to—whoa. You're bleeding."

Hans looked down; a patch of crimson grew on his white linen shirt, accompanied by a prickling pain that made him inhale sharply. He ripped open the shirt to find his chest slick with blood.

On the left, right above his heart, shallow scratches etched out a perfect circle. It was ringed by that same, ancient script, and it chilled Hans to know that, behind the doors, Caleb was writing them on his own skin—without a hint of pain.

"_Ah,"_ the voice murmured.

Hendrick had gone pale, staring at the mark on Hans' chest. "Shit. _That's_ his plan?"

"I swear to God, Hendrick; if you know something I don't—"

"I already told you: you didn't see what happened to Aksel."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for making it to the end! If that felt way too long, it's because it is. Every chapter runs away from me somehow, but this one went and did a marathon. I almost split it into two, except I visualise chapters like TV show episodes and the flow didn't allow for it. I hope you rested your eyes!

Fun fact: 'Ulf' apparently means "wolf" in Norwegian, so 'Ulf the Wolf' is really "Wolf the Wolf"! That was a constellation mentioned in the Forest of Shadows novel and when I conceived Elsa's wolf, I couldn't see the connection.

Also on the topic of Forest of Shadows, don't worry if you haven't read it! If I incorporate anything from the book, it will be the setting more than the story, which will be explained without requiring context. I don't intend to use it as canon content, so there's no assumption that the sisters experienced and remembered the events of the book.

Stay safe and see you next chapter!


	15. A Scared Child

**The Next Unknown**

_15 _– _A Scared Child_

OoOoO

Release. _Thud. _Release. _Thud._

'_This family is unfit to protect anyone. But you are different.'_

Release—

'_You are a shadow.'_

The last knife flew wide and sailed into the bushes behind the target board.

He didn't move immediately. It took him several seconds to realise it was out of habit; holding his position so Sofia could come over and correct his form. _Wow, Oskar,_ he could hear her chuckle. _I think you decimated an anthill. Go apologise._

Today, his form was perfect; it was his vision that had betrayed him.

It kept showing him a man, tall and thin, standing beside the bullseye with his arms crossed, unfazed by the possibility of getting stabbed by a wayward throw. Oskar saw shirt sleeves rolled up four times, always four, and shaggy auburn hair impatiently hacked off with a knife despite Sofia's pleas to let her trim it properly.

He saw everything but the face.

He couldn't have forgotten it so quickly. So easily. He could still picture Sofia as clearly as a photograph in his hands—so why was Prince Gregory already slipping through his fingers like water?

Maybe it would be different if he had stared less at the ground. Spent less time telling himself that they would be the same height one day, and by then he would have earned the right to look the man in the eye and try to call him 'Father'.

Now he had all the time in the world to live with the regret.

Someone whistled from behind him. "Amazing! Remind me never to get on your nasty side."

Trying to act like she hadn't startled him, Oskar crossed over to the target board to yank out the knives, pointedly ignoring the queen as she jogged past to rustle through the bushes.

It wasn't long before she returned, hopping on one foot to pull out a twig that had somehow got into her boot. "Here you go." She held out the last knife.

Days of passing her bedroom without entering, followed by nights of pretending to be asleep each time she snuck in to check on him. Of making himself scarce whenever he heard her voice in the hallways, never meeting her eyes. Always staring at the ground.

Now, though, there was no avoiding it. She stood in front of him, bright-haired and grinning, the same Anna as usual. Except for the still-pink scar on the side of her head. Oskar spent too long staring at it.

Anna's smile slipped. "Are you still mad at me? I'll never figure out how to make it up to you if you don't tell me what I did. Give me a clue?"

She could keep wondering, because that was what she had almost done to him. He'd told her to be careful; to take her guard detail seriously; to run. And she hadn't. He was sick of stupid heroics. Sick of being the fool who had allowed into his heart a person even more insanely self-sacrificial than Sofia.

_Show no weakness. Trust no one. Westergaards are lions, not mice._

He was sick of being a Westergaard.

"Oskar?"

He made the mistake of glancing at Anna's hopeful, puppy-like expression.

Her tentative smile broadened as she used the knife to gesture at the target board. "Can I try?"

'_You're the queen,'_ he had told her in the beginning. '_Do whatever you want.'_

Wasn't she sick of trying so hard?

Oskar stepped back—a fair distance out of the way, because it would be just like Anna to unwittingly unlock the technique of boomeranging a knife back at their faces.

Watching her stick her tongue out as she studied the target, though, Oskar thought back to the day he had stood on the beach beside her as she'd drawn back a flaming arrow. '_If I miss, I'll keep trying.'_

Maybe Sofia would have gotten along with her after all.

"Oops!"

Oskar blinked. The knife was gone, but it wasn't on the target. "Where'd it go?"

His response seemed to delight Anna. "Oh, just into the pond!" she said, too enthusiastically.

"In the what? _How?_"

"Hush, it was way lighter than I thought. Where did you even get these knives from? Was it Mattias again? Do I need to have another talk with him?"

Oskar almost bit his tongue stifling the impulse to point out that if Mattias hadn't given him that first knife, he and Anna would be dead right now. He also didn't mention that the knives had come from Osmund.

'_Just from scrap metal_,' the old blacksmith had grunted. '_Didn't want to steal too much from the queen. Better than nothing, next time there's trouble.' _

Emil, too, had looked like he itched for the resources to remake Oskar's custom bow. Both men knew his measurements by heart. They knew there was always a next time_._

Anna knew nothing, though, so Oskar said nothing. He knew he could walk away, and she would give him space. Or maybe she would chase him down. What did it matter? Nothing mattered anymore.

He passed her another knife and watched her smile shine impossibly brighter. So predictable.

He had missed her previous throw, so it was only when he saw her gauge the weapon's balance on her index and middle fingers, that Oskar wondered if Anna might actually know what she was doing. Until her hand snapped out to the side and sent the knife whizzing across the yard.

It slammed into the board less than an inch from the bullseye.

Anna made a noise that was somehow a cross between a squeal and a groan. "So _close_!"

Oskar stared incredulously at the quivering hilt. "Did you throw that with no spin?"

"Hm? I dunno; the dartboard in my office is so flimsy it falls off the wall if I get the distance wrong and hit it with the handle—which was _all_ the time. So now I just throw it straight."

"You 'just' throw it straight," Oskar repeated. "Do you know how much practice it takes to throw a knife like that? Who _are_ you?"

"The queen of productive procrastination. Duh." Both Anna's humour and tone dipped. "And you? Who are you, Oskar? Where did a twelve-year-old learn to fight like that?"

_Don't tell her. She'll never find out._

In the end, though, it wasn't Mattias's knife that had saved them. It was Anna. Without her, they would all be dead. Oskar already owed her his life. What was so unforgivable about owing her an answer?

Avoiding Anna's searching gaze, he stepped forward to retrieve her knife. It was stuck fast in the wood, thrown with a force and accuracy that could not have been a fluke. It seemed he was forever underestimating this woman and overestimating himself.

Maybe it was time to stop overthinking.

Returning to Anna's side, Oskar abruptly pivoted and threw one of the blades.

_Thud._ Straight through the boundary of the inner ring.

"Did you—did you even _look_?" Anna sputtered. "That's practically a bullseye! You're amazing. Seriously, I'll never believe you're only… oh, you want me to have another go?"

Holding out the second knife, Oskar emptied his mind of second thoughts. If she beat him, he would tell her the truth. Simple. Fair.

Yet, when Anna's hand closed around the knife's hilt, his own grip tightened on the blade. Unable to let it go.

_What an idiot,_ retorted Sofia's voice in his head. _Forget the games and excuses. You already know you want to lose._

"Whoa, careful there. You're going to do an Elsa and cut open your hand."

"Anna."

_Don't tell her._

"Yeah?" she asked distractedly.

_She'll never find out._

"I'm not Prince Gregory's son."

OoOoO

If Kristoff had any sense at all, he would never leave Arendelle again. Except for ice-harvesting trips. And maybe the next time Anna decided to drag him and Elsa to picnics in the countryside, or lingonberry-picking in Snoob.

On second thought, he supposed he could also be convinced to squeeze into another scratchy suit and attend some neighbouring nation's baron's son's first birthday, because becoming the queen still hadn't taught Anna that such events were optional. She'd eat too much food, chat with too many people, and make him spin her too many times on the dance floor.

On the carriage ride home, she'd ask if he'd had a good time and giggle when he said no in his flattest tone. _You know you don't have to force yourself to come,_ she'd say in a singsong voice.

He would glance at her, massaging her feet with her clumsily undone hair falling in waves over her freckled shoulders, and remain silent. Then she'd spend the rest of the ride pestering him to share his thoughts, and he'd have to regale her with reindeer facts because it wasn't like he could say aloud that Grand Pabbie's magic paled next to the sorcery of her smile.

If he had any sense at all, he'd never leave her side again.

He could get used to this sensation of returning to her, though.

"How much longer?"

The captain's hat immediately fell over his eyes as he turned his head. It was quite a ridiculous hat, more feathers than practical coverage, and looked like it should have taken literal flight in the sea breeze long ago. And yet the hat was far from the ship's most bizarre feature.

"If the wind holds up, we should reach Arendelle by midday, sir." The captain nervously straightened his hat. "They _are_ expecting us, yes?"

"Should be. The Duke said he sent his fastest rider to deliver my letter. What, are you afraid Elsa will drop an iceberg on a Weselton ship without asking questions?" Kristoff chuckled. Then he saw the man's moustache quiver. "You're kidding, right? Because I am. Elsa would never do that."

"O-Of course, sir."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

When the other man merely gulped, Kristoff sighed and ran a hand over his stubble. He really needed to shave. "All right, look—I know the Duke's painted her out to be some kind of witch, and I'm not saying that her magic isn't what it is. But Elsa isn't just your enemy's enemy. If our two nations are expected to get along during and after this war, you need to realise she's human like you and me. She rehearses speeches in front of her penguin doll. She has bed hair in the mornings. She's awful at charades. She's a good person—a great person—and I'm telling you this because I may have signed that ridiculously long treaty with your Duke, but don't think Anna won't feed it to her horse if she suspects it's just another trick to use her sister as some sort of terrifying war machine."

Only after delivering his spiel did Kristoff register the captain's bewildered stare. "S-So yeah," he finished lamely. "Tell that to the Duke. And your wife and kids. I like your hat. You know what? Don't mind me. I'll just—"

"Husband." The captain cleared his throat, sounding as awkward as Kristoff felt. The feathered hat had slid over his eyes again, but he made no attempt to fix it. "Husband and kids. I will tell them. And I will relay your words to His Grace."

"You will? I mean—good. Very good. Maybe, erm, leave out the bit about charades?"

"Yes, sir."

Kristoff nodded self-consciously and turned to go. Then he paused. "I've been wondering: is that hat really part of your uniform?"

The man's grimace said it all.

Kristoff solemnly clapped him on the back. "Thank you for your service, mate."

When the Duke had said their goods were loaded onto a "ship", Kristoff had expected a cargo vessel; perhaps the least seaworthy one in the fleet. He and Erling had even speculated that the Duke might conveniently neglect to provide a crew—they certainly wouldn't put it past him. Now they would never know, thanks to Prince Fredrik regaining enough strength and gratitude to insist that Kristoff's party travelled via his personal vessel.

The ship was named the _Flamingo_, and she was more than a little pink.

Kristoff shielded his eyes as he crossed the deck, peering up at the fuchsia sails. He tried not to think of the extravagant sum that must have been spent on the colourful dye alone. That didn't include the rose-shaped handles on cabin doors, the taffrails adorned with an intricate pattern of feathers, the ship's figurehead—dear Flemmingrad, the _figurehead._

Then there was the fact that he still couldn't believe they had done it—that they were sailing back to Arendelle with crates of weapons and armour stowed below deck. In a ship that would no doubt put tears of laughter in Anna's eyes.

"Combating prejudices at a civilian level. Well played, Your Highness."

Kristoff nearly slipped; his damned sea legs consistently disappeared as soon as he tried to remember them. "Erling! What are you doing down there?"

"Burning." Despite the jacket draped over his head, the councillor's round face was sweaty and pink. He sat at the foot of the mainmast, perusing a book he must have plucked from the well-stocked shelf in Fredrik's study.

The _Flamingo _rode over another swell, and Kristoff reached out to steady himself. "Maybe going below deck instead of sticking around to eavesdrop would help with the sunburn. You sure make it your business to know everything about everyone, don't you?"

"Grossly incorrect. I was downwind and your voices merely carried. I do not know everything—only the most important things about people worth knowing about."

"Wow, you really said that aloud. And you wonder why people don't like you." Too late, Kristoff remembered that he wasn't goofing around with Ronny or Herman. "Wait, I didn't mean that."

Erling turned a page without looking up. "I don't need to wonder. Nor do I care."

They could go on forever like this, Kristoff realised. So he took in a breath and, on the exhale, blurted, "I'm sorry."

"Did I not just say it does not bother me?"

"I meant… I'm sorry for doubting you the moment things went south. That wasn't fair."

"Nothing ever is. Distrusting me was the wisest thing you have done since the wedding, and you would do well to preserve that suspicion. Our queen is gullible enough on her own."

Kristoff's brow twitched. "Why do you have to throw yourself on the blade every time I start to—"

"Understand me?" Erling's book shut with a snap. "With all due respect, sir, I owe no one the obligation of laying bare my thoughts so they might be at ease in my presence."

"Fair, but you do owe Anna an explanation. That's what I can't figure out. If you really think of her as your queen, you'd be a hell of a lot more cooperative. So maybe you're not loyal to her anymore, and I'm just a barbaric ice harvester to you. Fine. Then why are you still here? Why did you put your own neck on the line to get me out of the firing line? What are you up to, Hakon Erling?"

"That is my business. All you need to know is that I have no intention of wooing her."

"You… I… _what?_"

Across the deck, the sounds of Petra effortlessly sparring with Ronny and Herman halted as they turned around.

Kristoff hadn't meant to shout, but he was too bewildered to be embarrassed. "That was _not_ my question."

"You mean you haven't felt the slightest insecurities over your wife working closely with a distinguished nobleman, fretting over his opinion of her? Twelve years is a perfectly reasonable age difference between a monarch and their consort; Queen Elsa received many proposals from lords offering up their infant sons. Anna could do a lot worse than me."

Kristoff did not know if Erling intended for his last line to be scathing, but it turned out to be the rope he needed. He knew this terrain; this climb. "Obviously—you're already looking at 'a lot worse'," he shot back. "Come on; you didn't think that would be news to me, did you? You think I don't know I'm a bad match for her? Like I haven't spent the last three years worried that she'll wake up one morning and suddenly see that she's _her_, and I'm just me? But that's not up to me. I'm only proof that no force on this earth could prevent Anna from choosing to love someone, whoever they are. If she ever wants to be with anyone else, who am I to get offended?"

Erling arched an eyebrow. "That's touching—inspirational, almost. Yet irrelevant."

The sheer ridiculousness of the moment hit Kristoff all at once. He huffed out a laugh. "You're the one who started it."

"I was hoping it would end the conversation, not extend it."

"Then I guess you're not as smart as you think you are."

Realising he had been standing over the other man the entire time, Kristoff sat down. "For what it's worth, I think Anna does love you. And no matter what you say, I can tell you care about her, too. Now, I don't know what happened between you two, but don't you reckon it's time you let her back in? That's what friends do."

"We are not friends."

"Anna would disagree."

"Of course. She befriends everyone."

"Nope. She _likes_ everyone."

"I fail to see the difference."

"Come on, man; do you even know what friendship is?" Another jest—except there was no response.

Kristoff blinked and turned to see Erling silently wiping his glasses. "You've never had friends before?"

"I had two. It does not mean I must entertain their daughters."

It took a moment to sink in. "Hold up—you knew Anna and Elsa's parents? The king and queen?"

"No." The lenses already looked clear as water, but Erling continued to vigorously clean his glasses. "I never knew them at all."

"What do you—"

A shout across the deck cut through Kristoff's question. "Boat on starboard! They're signalling for help."

OoOoO

"What do you mean, silly?" Anna's heart throbbed as she knelt in front of Oskar. He was still holding the knife. She wrapped her hands over his white knuckles. "Just because Gregory's… well… missing, doesn't mean he stops being your father."

"He never was." Oskar's toneless voice reminded Anna of their first meeting. The icy water, his frightening serenity and vacant gaze. "I've wished for it all my life. But that's not who he was to me."

"You said—"

"I lied."

Anna blinked. How could two simple words hold so little sense? "You what?"

"I lied."

"No, you didn't."

"Damn it, Anna—I know what I did." Oskar ripped his hands free of hers and backed away. "I _lied_ to you! I'm not Prince Gregory's son. I'm not a prince. I'm not a bloody Westergaard."

_To you._ Of Oskar's outburst, those were the only words that found purchase in Anna's muddled mind.

'_What's your name?'_ she had asked him, so long ago.

"But… why would you do that?"

"God, how thick can you get? Why do you _think_?" Oskar's eyes were a pair of braziers, flashing with flames of frustration. "A bunch of half-drowned refugees wash up on your shores. You feed and clothe them out of the goodness of your heart. Then you discover half of them are fugitives, running from the same mad king who blackmailed every kingdom around you. Suddenly these freeloaders are more trouble than their worth in good karma. Would you have continued sheltering them without some sort of collateral?"

"I…" Anna recalled her sinking stomach in the Great Hall, faced with the generosity she could no longer afford as queen. The precautions she had forgotten to take in order to protect Arendelle from anyone and anything. She'd vowed to do better. And yet. "I told you that night, didn't I? I said I wouldn't ever regret saving you. I meant it."

"Bullshit."

"Oskar—"

"Don't _comfort_ me!"

Anna didn't notice that she had reached instinctively for him. Swallowing, she drew her hands to her chest.

She expected Oskar to run. He didn't.

'_Were you planning to lock me up if I lied?'_ he'd snapped at her and Elsa when they had questioned him.

Lips dry, Anna tried again. "By 'collateral'… please don't tell me you made yourself a hostage on purpose."

Silence.

Her stomach plummeted. "Oh God… it's okay, buddy. I'm not angry. It's fine."

"Really?" Oskar said sarcastically. "Who's lying now?"

He was right. Except Anna wasn't lying to anyone but herself. She was good at that. Telling herself that Elsa still loved her; that their parents did what was best; that the sun always set on something beautiful, day after day.

How much longer could she keep that up?

Anna threw up her hands. "Okay, fine—I _am_ angry! Is that what you want me to say? It's fine that you didn't trust me in the beginning—but didn't you feel safe yesterday? What about the day before that, and last week? I've never doubted you, so why did it take you so long to trust me with the truth?"

"Because."

"Because _what_? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"Because I was _scared!_" It was almost a lion's roar. It would have been, if Oskar's young voice hadn't cracked. "Because it was too good to be true, all right? _You_ are too good to be true. And I..." The flames in his eyes became glistening pools. "I didn't want you to hate me."

He might as well have plunged the knife into her chest.

Anna's vision blurred as she gazed incomprehensibly at the small boy standing before her. Twelve years old. A boy who could hit targets without looking and fearlessly take on adversaries three times his size with nothing but a dagger. A boy who was, apparently, not at all the boy she thought she knew.

Wasn't he, though?

"Oskar," Anna whispered. "Look at me."

"Go away."

"You know I'm immune to that. I'm sorry I yelled. Come on. Please?"

He glanced up like a wounded animal peeking from its besieged den. It was all she needed.

Anna opened her arms and watched him flinch. She waited.

"I'm not a dog," Oskar muttered. But he took one tentative step forward. Then another.

When he came within reach, Anna tugged the knife out of his grip, and exhaled. "No; you're only a kid. I know you hate hearing it, but that's just a fact. A lot of bad things happened to you, and it doesn't make you a bad person. Okay? Sometimes we're forced to make choices when we're mad or scared or stressed. And when it gets too much, it's fine to let yourself—"

The force of said child launching himself into her arms nearly sent her tumbling onto her back. Oskar clung to her, just like he had in the water. Except this time, he wasn't shaking from the cold.

"… cry." A lump rose in Anna's throat. She wrapped her arms around him. Gosh, he was tiny. Strong, yes; but so, so small. "I don't hate you, dummy. How could you even think that?"

"Stop it," he hiccupped.

"I'm not lying."

"Stop being _nice._"

Hadn't he told her that once before? Anna laughed thickly. "Just admit you like me."

"No."

"It was worth a try." She paused. Asked anyway. "Oskar? Caleb didn't send you to spy on me, did he?"

Oskar's head snapped up and collided with her chin. "What the hell, Anna?"

"Ow. What? It's an honest question!"

"It's a stupid question!"

"Well, then call me an idiot for trying to think smarter!"

"You're an idiot! You—_stop laughing._"

Her breath hitched with a watery chuckle. "I'm not laughing."

Oskar's scowl softened. "Don't do that either, you crybaby. Ugh, don't wipe your face on my shirt!"

"That's my line, you little hypocrite. This is my favourite blouse."

Oskar swatted away Anna's hands. Then he lifted the bottom of his shirt and roughly dried her cheeks himself. She let him, vaguely remembering the last time he had mopped blood off her face.

Oskar mumbled something.

"Sorry?"

"Sorry."

"Yes, that's what I asked."

"That's what _I_ said, you moron."

"Oh! Wait. _Aww._"

Face reddening, Oskar tried to pull away. One yank on the back of his shirt was all it took to make him drop back into Anna's lap. "Oi," he protested as she rested her chin on his head.

"Can we just sit like this for a bit? I promise not to tickle you."

Oskar crossed his arms, but he didn't get up again. Instead, he leaned back against her, ever so slightly. "I'm not ticklish."

"Sure, champ."

"I'm _not._"

Anna considered the cloudless sky above them. "It all makes sense now. You are way too ill-mannered to be royalty. Zero etiquette."

"Oh, shut up."

"See? Exhibit A." Anna blew a tuft of Oskar's dark hair away from her nose. She flattened it under her chin when it popped back up. When had his hair grown so shaggy?

Eventually, he said, "Aren't you going to ask?"

"Mm?"

"Who I really am." Oskar didn't give her time to respond. "I thought if I could pretend to be someone important, you would just send me back to the Isles as a bargaining chip for Arendelle's safety. Then everyone else could stay. And I'd get a chance to slit Caleb's throat."

The way he said it—cold, hard, determined—sent Anna back to the woods, huddled together behind a tree as she tried to convince him to hand over the knife. Back to '_You've never killed anyone before.'_

Her gaze fell on the target board and the knife stuck into it, almost dead centre. "Sounds like you've done it before… kill, I mean."

"… More than you have, that's for sure."

Anna winced. "Well, now that difference is one body less."

"He deserved it. Trust me."

Anna wasn't so sure. Who were they to decide who deserved to live? But who was she to judge this boy?

Giving Oskar's skinny frame an assuring squeeze, Anna sighed, "At least we're safe now."

"For now," Oskar amended irritably. "Next time, you run when I tell you to. Got it?"

"Excuse me? You're talking to the queen here, kid. I gave you an order, so _you_ should have stayed away like I told you to."

"That's exactly why you should have put your own safety first, dimwit. You're the queen. I'm just—mmph!" Oskar scrabbled at the hand Anna had clamped over his mouth. "What was that for?"

"Sorry, reflex. I thought you were about to say something that would've made me sad. And possibly angry."

"Geez, God forbid," he grumbled, drawing a laugh from her. A moment later, he murmured, "I am, though. A nobody. Expendable. No, listen_,_ Anna—that's who I am. What I am." Oskar's words rushed together as if vying to release a restless dove from its cage. "I'm just an orphan Prince Gregory took in as a newborn. He's only ever asked for one thing from me, so I've spent my life making sure I could do that one thing right. I practiced walking silently. I learned how to disarm opponents larger than me. I taught myself to use every weapon in the armoury, and how to become one myself if nothing else was in reach. All I wanted was to make him proud—it's useless to thank him for raising me until he sees it was worth it, right?"

'_Prince Gregory and I. We don't have that kind of relationship.'_

"But it wasn't worth it," Oskar bit out, his voice wavering. "I wasn't worth it. Because I was meant to be her shadow. If I'd done that properly, she would still be here. Not me."

"'She'?" Anna questioned. Yet her mind was already flashing back to the frozen fjord—to the memory of a teenage girl lying on the ice, her face obscured by thick tresses.

'_We weren't real siblings, anyway. She just decided to… care.'_

Auburn hair. Like Runo's beard, and Niklas's curls. Like Hans.

"Oh," Anna breathed. "_Oh._"

"I was supposed to protect her." Oskar's whisper came out small and broken. "I promised him."

OoOoO

A small boat pulled up beside the _Flamingo._ Hakon's eye caught on the dark stains he saw spattered across the light-coloured wood.

The _Flamingo_'s captain held onto his ridiculous hat as he leaned over the taffrail. "What is your business?"

"We need medical attention!" came a woman's shouted response, echoing across the water.

"We do not have a medic onboard."

"Please! He will die if you refuse to help!"

Sucking on his teeth, the captain looked to Kristoff. "Prince Fredrik placed us under your command, sir."

The answer was obvious; it had been cemented as soon as the woman said '_if you refuse to help'._ Kristoff had already unbuttoned his sleeves and singlehandedly hoisted up a thick coil of rope onto his shoulder. "Throw down the ladder. He doesn't look like he can climb; I'll go down and—"

"Allow me, sir," Herman cut in. He stepped forward to take the rope from Kristoff, underestimating its weight as he stumbled. "I'll make sure he's secure so we can pull him up."

"Oh. Right." Dropping his hands, Kristoff looked both perplexed and exasperated. "I'll stay put, then. Up here. To pull."

"Herman, don't go alone. Take Ronny." Petra's narrowed gaze hadn't left the boat. "Keep your wits about you."

"You think they're suspicious?"

"We've seen too many boats, too recently. I don't believe in coincidences."

Hakon didn't, either, but he said nothing. Something had triggered a sense of unease. Something familiar. If he could prune parts of his perfect memory, he'd be able to retrieve the useful details more efficiently. If that were possible, his childhood would be the first to be unloaded.

Watching sailors scurry across the deck at Kristoff's orders, Hakon became aware that he wasn't the only one staying out of the commotion's way. Petra stood further along the taffrail, watching Herman and Ronny descend the rope ladder.

"I share your misgivings," he said. "Be ready."

Petra's head turned slightly, but they both continued eyeing the boat below them. "Finally talking to me, Councillor? I wasn't aware you had taken notice of my existence this past week."

"You are His Highness's sword and shield. I am his analyst and advisor. The only meaningful conversation we might share would merely indicate a failure of our duties. In any case, I wasn't aware you cared for my acknowledgement."

"That's because I don't."

Hakon chortled. "If you must know, I think of you as the most sensible among our party. You possess a rare quality known as common sense."

"I hope you're not expecting a 'thank you'."

"Of course not. It was an observation, not a compliment."

"Good to know," Petra replied dryly. "For the record, I've survived in the Enchanted Forest for as long as you've been alive. I'm always ready."

It was clear that Petra had no interest in entertaining him, and it didn't bother Hakon in the slightest. Body language was a book he had read cover to cover thousands of times before. After all, miscalculating his mother's mood only resulted in another welt that needed to be hidden beneath suffocating sweaters. So he learned to observe and remember, and never quite learned how to switch off that vigilance around everyone else.

Seeing through lies, noticing nervous ticks, planting the right ideas—it was all a matter of studying the tapestry and plucking the correct thread to unravel it all. When one grew up tiptoeing around the most unpredictable of minds, the rest was laughably easy to figure out. Which meant that it was also easy for him to see why children and adults alike gave him a wide berth.

Only one foolish person hadn't been intimidated by him.

"_You are impossible, you know that? You're so good at understanding others, you could make a lot of friends if you only put in the effort. And smiled like a normal person."_

"_You're already enough of a nuisance. Why would any sane person want more of you?"_

"_Good question; you'll have to ask Agnarr. Oh, that's why I came—join us for dinner."_

"_No, thank you. This is precisely why friends are unnecessary; they grow up and make your life complicated by marrying _the king."

"_It's your fault for hanging around this pregnant lady instead of befriending kids your age. You're thirteen, Hakon! Watching you waste your youth like this is making me age faster."_

"_That's your problem, seeing as _you _are the one who won't leave me alone. Also, don't blame your fossilisation on… where are you dragging me?"_

"_To play with Elsa. She'll teach you to stop speaking like a dictionary."_

"_I refuse. There is nothing wrong with my lexicon and you can't force me to spend another afternoon having a tea party with a two-year-old."_

"_Can't I? _Someone _keeps reminding me I'm the queen now. Oh, wipe that grumpy grandpa off your baby face. You look preposterous."_

Inconvenient. Meddlesome. Like mother, like daughter.

"Went down there for nothing," Herman announced as he and Ronny climbed back up the ladder. "She barely let us touch the guy. Insisted on securing him herself and being the one to follow him up."

"He's in a bad way, though," Ronny added. "Lost an arm. I'm surprised she managed to keep him alive this long."

Petra clicked her tongue as she shot another look down the side of the ship. "That's exactly it: what are they doing so far out at sea in a boat that looks like it'll capsize at a sneeze? We're days away from Weselton and they clearly didn't come from Arendelle. How did he get his injuries?"

"How about we worry about that after we get them on board?" Kristoff grunted as he braced his feet and grasped the rope. "Anyone want to help?"

"You looked like you could pull him up by yourself, sir," Ronny cracked, stepping forward with Herman.

Petra's distrustful scowl remained. "If she tries to tell us they were attacked by sharks, I will shove her overboard."

"_You are quite ruthless, aren't you, Hakon?"_

"_Have I offended you, Your Majesty?"_

"_No, not at all. I have been thinking. Iduna and I have watched you grow up; you are extremely bright. More insightful than half my council."_

"_That sounds like a problem with the council more than it is a compliment to me."_

"_See? This is exactly what I mean. You could learn the foundations as my aide; build connections, understand the policies, develop your stance on them."_

"_I'm afraid I don't follow, sir."_

"_Oh, we both know you do. I promised Iduna I would not pressure you, and I don't intend to. But the truth is that Arendelle would benefit from a mind like yours. Tell me, Hakon: have you ever considered following your father's footsteps into politics?"_

"_Can I speak honestly? I never knew my father. My mother mistakes me for him frequently enough that I don't have the slightest interest in becoming him."_

"_Ah. Of course. I didn't mean to—"_

"_So don't ask me to follow him. Ask me to follow you and Iduna. And I'll say yes."_

Urgent shouts as the injured man appeared over the rails. Ronny and Herman took up the rope's slack while Kristoff hurried forward. The man sank bonelessly into his arms and practically needed to be carried across the deck, letting out a hiss of pain when he was propped up against the same mast under which Hakon had sat earlier.

His head drooped over his fluttering chest, face obscured by lank, shoulder-length hair the colour of grimy rust. Almost the same shade as the dried blood caking the left side of his torso.

"He's burning up," Kristoff remarked. "Damn; I gave all my healing crystals to Fredrik. We're still hours away from land. Can we—"

"Don't touch him!" The woman had reached the top of the ladder. Hakon caught only fleeting details—a vicious glare, mature features weathered by the elements, fair hair matted down in a Dutch braid—before she pulled herself up and over the railing with startling strength.

No one saw Petra draw her sword. The woman skidded to a halt, hazel eyes dropping to the blade pointed at her chest.

"Rather calm, aren't you?" Petra noted coolly. "I'll give you one chance to explain where you came from."

"Shipwreck."

"Elaborate."

"Is this how Arendellian soldiers treat those in need?"

"Of course not. This is how I treat suspicious outsiders who can instantly recognise a foreign soldier's uniform. You just blew your last chance to pass off as a civilian. Not that I would have believed you. Now…" Petra raised the sword towards the woman's neck. "The truth. Keep in mind that I can carve you up like a Christmas roast before you take three steps."

"Three steps?" The woman snorted. "I will break your skull before you can register the regret."

Petra's lips thinned into a chilling smile. "Is that a challenge?"

"Is that fear?"

The man let out a wet cough. "Josefine. I'll speak for myself."

It was the immediate change in the woman's demeanour; the way her stance slackened despite the sword at her neck, prioritising command over instincts. Hakon had seen it before. Then it finally clicked—he had seen _her_ before. Two years ago, standing at attention in a chamber seated with representatives from each kingdom; same hair, face less haggard, impeccable uniform. Which meant—

The injured man lifted his head, revealing a familiar, sunburnt face and deep green eyes with a piercing gaze. "All we seek is passage to Arendelle, to find my daughter. I give my word that we will cause no trouble."

Despite having been surrounded by ghosts his entire life, it was the first time Hakon had ever locked eyes with one.

"It is too late for that," he said, "when your very survival already spells out trouble, Your Highness."

* * *

A/N: A short(er) but immensely satisfying chapter for me! It's surreal to finally pen down the scenes I've pictured since chapter 2. It's been several long months of trying to make sure Oskar was consistent without slipping up. That kid is a much better liar than I am.

Thank you for following the story (and Oskar's journey) this far!

P.S. ink-quill-art on tumblr drew breathtaking art of Anna and Oskar's scene! I've linked it to the masterlist pinned at the top of my tumblr (themarshmallowattack). Please check it out and fawn over it like I did!


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